


It's Not That Simple

by HazzilyEverAfter



Category: One Piece
Genre: (except not really), Angst, Drama, Fluff, Hate to Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Romance, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-05-12 09:42:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5661700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazzilyEverAfter/pseuds/HazzilyEverAfter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zoro and Sanji are fighting.</p>
<p>And that’s not really a surprise, exactly, because Zoro and Sanji are always fighting. But it’s different, this time.</p>
<p>This time, it’s not physical, and Sanji isn’t up in Zoro’s face yelling and screaming and calling him names. There’s no swiping of polished katanas against the lithe swing of powerful legs. It’s not physical combat.</p>
<p>This time, Sanji’s fighting with silent avoidance and quiet resignation. This time, their entire nakamaship may be on the line.</p>
<p>And this time, Zoro doesn’t know how to fight back.</p>
<p>OR</p>
<p>There’s something wrong with Sanji, but Zoro doesn’t know what it is or why it’s happened – why they’ve suddenly stopped brawling and hating each other left, right and centre. All he knows is that he has to fix it, or this Sanji – the Sanji that’s sunken and tired and so, so sad - may never go away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic that I've posted in the One Piece fandom, so if you have the time, feedback is appreciated :)

Something is wrong.

_10,437_ , _10,438_ , _10,439_.

Zoro’s lifting weights on deck, making use of the mid-morning sun shining down onto his back as best he can while working out to heighten his control over his body. He can’t concentrate well enough, though, and feels a frown creasing his features as he studies Sanji.

_10,440_.

Something is very, _very_ wrong.

_10,441_.

And here’s the thing. Zoro knows that many think of him as quite retarded in the head, and downright incapable of detecting other’s emotions.

_10,442_.

A downright brick wall when dealing with anything other than physical combat.

_10,443_.

Sanji, especially, would _insist_.

_10,444_.

But it’s not true. He’s actually quite sharp, and right now, he can tell that something is definitely off with the curly-brow. It’s nothing incredibly obvious, but from Zoro’s place on the deck, he can see Sanji serving the mid-morning drinks to his delicate ladies, and there’s very minimal swooning and turning into jelly limbs.

There’s not even a nosebleed, and both Nami and Robin are in nothing but bikinis.

So. Something is wrong, and it’s _big_.

Sanji’s not even trying to peak down any of their cleavages, and both Nami’s _and_ Robin’s are showing. Normally, this would have been a valid reason for a field day for Sanji and his perverted tendencies.

Instead, today, Sanji just places the tray balanced in his hand by their chairs, and gives a small smile to each lady once they’ve thanked him for the treat.

The smile looks forced.

Sanji just turns around, then, and walks off, without complimenting any of them, or trying to reach over for a grope. There’s no hearts floating from his eyes.

Which, okay. Is probably a good sign for a normal person, but which is so different to how Sanji usually behaves that Zoro finds himself feeling quite worried. He shouldn’t though. He should just go back to lifting his weights.

He grunts as he realises that he’s been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he’d stopped his workout completely, and that just won’t do. He needs to be in tip top condition if he stands a chance against Mihawk.

_What number was he at again_?

Dammit. He’ll just have to start from one, then.

_1_ , _2_ , _3_.

He can’t help the way that his eyes follow Sanji as he makes his way back to the kitchen, and almost drops the weight he’s holding above himself across his neck when he watches Sanji half-heartedly drag Luffy by the ear out of the room, before closing the door behind himself with a near-silent _snick_.

And that’s perhaps the most worrying of all. Normally, there’d be a Luffy-shaped hole in the opposite wall if Sanji had caught him in his kitchen.

Luffy doesn’t seem to notice any difference, though, bounding straight over to Usopp and Chopper, and upon looking over, Nami and Robin are both sipping their drinks, with their heads buried in their novels.

Huh. Strange.

Zoro gives up all pretence of lifting weights, admitting that he’d lost his concentration a while ago, anyway.

He wants to know what’s wrong.

And Zoro always gets what he wants, so he walks over to the kitchen, and strolls in like he owns the place.

Sanji startles as the door bangs against the wall, and almost drops the paring knife he’s holding.

This should be news, because Sanji is never jumpy or careless with his knives, but Zoro is more worried about how Sanji visibly pales upon seeing who his visitor is. He doesn’t make a move to kick Zoro’s ass, or boot him out of the kitchen, or call him a marimo.

Shit.

Zoro waits for a second, hoping that Sanji’s just a bit slow today.

Nothing happens.

Sanji just clenches his knife tighter, and turns away with a shaky sigh.

Now Zoro feels out of his depth, because Sanji and him have never got along. They’ve never really even _talked_ , if you don’t count throwing snide remarks or tossing insults. But Zoro’s always took pride in understanding Sanji, at least – he always knows where Sanji’s morals stand, how he advances on the enemy, what he holds closest to his heart. Where not to push, and when to stop so that things never go too far – never turn too personal.

Or, he did, at least.

He doesn’t think he does, now, with Sanji’s back facing him and tension dancing along his shoulders, the way his back is stiff and even his cutting skills seem stilted.

He doesn’t think he’s the right person for this, suddenly. Because obviously something is going on inside Sanji’s head, and Zoro’s may be quite sharp on picking up on other’s emotions, but he’s never been good at expressing his own.

Nami, or Robin, or Chopper, or even Luffy would have been better for this job – someone who Sanji enjoys spending time with, and who Sanji would be willing to talk to, because out of everyone on this ship, he thinks that he’s the least likely to fill in those roles.

He’s never been one to back down from a challenge and give up, though, so he approaches slowly, albeit awkwardly. Hesitates, as he passes the galley into the kitchen, because Sanji still hasn’t really acknowledged his presence other than stiffening even further the closer Zoro walks.

“Hey.” He pauses at the counter, unwilling to move any closer just yet. Not until he figures out what kind of mood Sanji’s in.

There’s a pause, and then. “Hey.”

It’s resigned, and wavers a little, and Sanji’s voice is so, so small, and so unlike his usual way of speaking that Zoro doesn’t _understand_. He doesn’t understand when things changed, why they did, or why he didn’t notice until now. Whether it’s something that he or one of the crew did, whether one small thing has triggered it or whether it’s been slowly building over time, and his nakama were too _slow_ and _stupid_ to see it, _Zoro_ was too stupid to see it, and now it’s turned into this huge _thing_ that’s swallowed away the sunny and bright Sanji that Zoro’s become used to, spitting out a hollow and bone-tired version instead.

Because that’s what Sanji is, Zoro can see it now. He’s moved closer, so he’s standing beside Sanji, although not quite touching him, and he can _see_ , and he wonders again how he hasn’t noticed before now, how _nobody_ has noticed before now, just how hollow and bone-tired he looks. He’s pale – even paler than usual, skin an almost sickly translucent colour, and there’s the beginnings of a bag forming under the visible eye that Zoro can see.

Zoro leans closer, and Sanji flinches away, still cutting up a fish, but not quickly enough for Zoro to miss how his normally vibrant blue eye is dull, and he looks like he hasn’t slept well in days, at least.

Weeks, maybe.

Zoro feels the corner of his lips pull down even further, and feels like an awful person, suddenly, because he’s meant to be Sanji’s nakama. He’s meant to be Sanji’s _nakama_ , but how can he honestly say that when Sanji looks ill and Zoro hasn’t even kept his eyes open long enough to _notice_?

“What the hell do you want, marimo?” It’s meant to come out as sarcastic and impatient, but all Zoro can hear, now, is how weak the resolve behind the remark is, and how defeated he sounds, and all Zoro can see is the way Sanji’s shoulders are slumped and his posture screams apprehension.

Zoro’s brows knit together, and he’s not quite sure how to handle this. He’s out of his element for sure, because for once, he can’t solve this problem by swinging his katana at Sanji. He’s not even sure if Sanji would dodge it in time, which is a terrifying thought, because they’re sailing the _New World_ , and there’s so much danger everywhere that Sanji can’t afford to lose his concentration, not even for a second.

He reaches out his hand, slowly, as if trying not to startle a deer caught in headlights, and Sanji would normally be pissed at being treated so delicately, but this time he only moves away before Zoro has a chance at grabbing his sleeve, placing the fillets he’d cut into a simmering pan over the stove and letting his bangs slide forward to cover both eyes. Zoro waits for Sanji back by the cutting board, because there’s still half a fish waiting to be filleted, but Sanji makes no move towards Zoro. He carries on staring at the fish in the pan, stirring it absentmindedly and avoiding the elephant in the room, _that something is clearly wrong_ , going so far as to avoid Zoro as to start burning the fish in the pan instead of moving closer to grab more water.

Which is ridiculous and _so unlike Sanji_ , because the Sanji Zoro knows would never act like a coward and avoid confrontation, _would never burn his food_ , that Zoro is overwhelmed by a sudden rush of anger.

He sweeps out his arm and grabs the collar of the dress shirt Sanji’s wearing, tugging once, _hard_ , so that Sanji is spun around to finally face Zoro.

“The hell’s your problem today?!” He yells at Sanji’s face, shoving him in the shoulder.

Sanji’s knocked back into a cupboard, head banging against wood, but he makes no move at shoving back.

Instead, he just lets himself be pushed, and stays exactly where he is afterwards, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He inhales a shaky breath, lost between Zoro’s ragged ones.

He doesn’t answer, and Zoro’s about to yell at him again when, finally, Sanji opens his eyes. What Zoro sees in them is enough for all of the frustration to drain out of him so quickly that the air inside a popped balloon would escape faster, because _oh_ , _no_ , there’s tears welling up in Sanji’s eyes. There’s tears, and Zoro has never, _ever_ seen Sanji cry before, and now Sanji’s visible iris is blurry behind the tears building up. None have fallen yet, though, and Zoro wants to keep it that way.

He’s just about to apologise, to get down on his knees and _grovel_ if he must, because even though he doesn’t really understand why Sanji’s upset just because Zoro yelled at him, he knows that he’s made a _huge_ mistake if Sanji’s just about crying over it.

Before he can, Sanji speaks.

“You know, I just-” a hitch of breath, “-I just don’t get you, sometimes.”

And then he’s brushing past Zoro, eyes trained on the ground as he turns to leave the kitchen. He’s shaken up, Zoro can tell – he’s biting down on his lower lip, and just before he passes him, a tear slides out, carving a track down his pale cheek, curving along his jaw, and dripping off onto the floor.

Zoro just stares after him as he makes his way across the room, steps uneven; watches Sanji until he closes the galley door behind himself as he leaves, and then Zoro turns to stare at the teardrop on the floor.

It’s silent in the kitchen - the kind that feels like it’s crushing him, almost - and for the first time, Zoro doesn’t know how to make it stop – isn’t sure how to fight back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I recently just made a new [Tumblr](https://hazzilyeverafter.tumblr.com/), so please check it out! I'm just HazzilyEverAfter on there as well, and I'll be posting my fanfiction so you can read from Tumblr if you prefer. I've kinda dedicated my main blog to the Phandom, but I have a side blog for One Piece, which can be found [here](https://hazzilyeverafter-onepiece.tumblr.com/), or by clicking the link in my main blog description.
> 
> Love you all!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoro still doesn't really understand what's going on...
> 
> But things are starting to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Chapter 2.
> 
> Also, there's some changes in tags, so MAKE SURE TO REREAD THEM BEFORE CONTINUING, just to make sure that nobody's triggered by anything in this fic.
> 
> Feel free to leave your opinion in the comments if you have the time :)

Sanji’s avoiding him. Sanji is _definitely_ avoiding him, but the worst part is, Zoro doesn’t know how to make him stop.

He wants so, so badly for the Sanji he knows to be back – the Sanji that picks fights and kicks him overboard, because he’d much rather deal with that Sanji a million times over than deal with this withdrawn one even once.

They’d arrived at a new island a few hours after their fallout, and Sanji had emerged from a storage room with red-rimmed eyes and a smell of chain-smoking. Zoro had tried to casually sidle up to him, but upon noticing his approach, Sanji had quickly scampered over to help Nami and Robin off of the ship, which even for Sanji is a bit much.

They aren’t going to fall into the gap between the deck and the dock, seriously. Even Nami isn’t that thin.

It’s obvious what Sanji’s trying to convey, though. _I don’t want you anywhere near me_ , and Zoro doesn’t want to push it, so he leaves him be for the meantime, jumping over the side of the Sunny and making his way into the small town by the port with Chopper and Luffy.

He’ll give the cook some time, and if he’s still avoiding him by tomorrow, then Zoro will do something.

He’s just not sure what, yet.

 

xxx

 

Okay, so it’s been nearly three days of silent avoidance from Sanji, and Zoro still hasn’t made a move of pressing matters. He’s not _putting off the inevitable_ , no, what, he’d _never_ do that. He’s just… unsure how to go about this. Should he just corner Sanji and demand answers? Or should he apologise first? Should he ask another crewmember, preferably Nami or Robin, to approach him? Or should he just let it be and give Sanji space?

He groans, brain hurting from all the emotional analysis. He wasn’t built for this. He was built for more physical matters, like training, dammit.

Right.

He re-lifts Wado, and clamps her between his teeth. He’s meant to be training, and lately he finds that his concentration has become close to non-existent, mind wondering more often than not to the stupid cook. Luffy even managed to boulder into him before Zoro noticed him approaching, which speaks worrying levels of how far he’s slipping.

He clears his mind, and settles his stance. He can’t get distracted. No matter what, his dream comes first.

So, he trains, perfecting his new techniques with his katanas, and he definitely doesn’t notice, he _does NOT notice, dammit_ , out of the corner of his eye, how Sanji’s leaning against the mast, blowing out smoke from between his lips and staring out to where the sun meets the sea.

 

xxx

 

The Sunny leaves the small island they’re docked at later on in the day, moving on towards the next one in the long line to One Piece. Zoro’s just finished a rigorous training session, so he’s thirsty, and nothing satisfies thirst like a good bottle or two of sake. And the only sake on board the ship is in the kitchen, so naturally, he makes his way to the galley.

Upon opening the door, he notices that there’s nobody standing at the kitchen counter. _Perfect_. Looks like he won’t get his ass kicked today, then.

 _If Sanji’s even up for it, anymore_ , he thinks to himself, another frown marring his features. He finds that he’s been frowning a lot, lately.

He turns his head and glances back around the deck, but the only people he can see are Brook and Franky practising their music over to the side, and neither are paying him any attention. There’s no sign of the cook, so with a relieved sigh, he slips inside the galley and closes the door behind him.

He’s so clever, honestly.

It’s as he’s reaching to the back of the alcohol cupboard, stretching his arm to its full extent and sticking his face into the opening to see better in case he grabs the wrong bottle, that he hears it.

It’s a low, vibrating rumble, followed by some rustling, and Zoro knocks his head _hard_ on the ledge of the shelf in his haste to extract himself from the cupboard. He’s instantly alert, hand flying to rest on the hilt of one of his katana, ready to draw it out at the first sign of danger.

It turns out that he needn’t have worried, though, when a quick glance around the galley shows him what had made the sound. He lets himself relax, dropping his hand from his weapons, instead reaching up to his head and soothing over the bump that’s no doubt forming.

It’s Sanji. He’s sitting at the dining table, torso sprawled over the surface and head lying on one of his arms. He has his eyes closed, and one quick scan is all it takes for Zoro to come to a conclusion; Sanji is asleep. He has no idea how he’d missed the cook lying there when he’d first walked in, but, well.

He obviously needs to work on his observation skills.

He’ll train himself into perfection later.

In the meantime, he slowly makes his way to Sanji, careful not to bump into anything which could startle him into waking up. He obviously needs the sleep; now that Zoro’s seated next to him, he can see how pale and drawn Sanji’s face still is, the veins on the back of his visible eyelid prominent and a faint blue circle forming around his eye.

Zoro spends a few seconds wondering how Sanji can always keep his one eye covered by his hair, even in sleep, but then dismisses the thought when he sees the pen in Sanji’s right hand. He scans the table, and spots the slightly crumpled piece of paper resting under Sanji’s head, with what looks like a list of half-written recipes on it.

It looks like he’d fallen asleep in the middle of writing – and with the obvious fatigue etched into his face, Zoro’s not even a little surprised. He’s quite astounded that Sanji had lasted this long, to be honest – it must have been a week, at least, since Sanji’s had a full night’s sleep.

Careful not to disturb the cook, he slips the paper out from underneath his head. It’s a list of their crew members, some followed by the start of a recipe. He scans through – there’s a beginning of an intricate recipe for raspberry rose soufflés next to Robin’s name, and a recipe for orange and mascarpone crème brûlées next to Nami’s, and a simple toffee apple recipe next to Chopper’s. Next to each of Luffy’s, Usopp’s, Franky’s and Brook’s names, there’s only a simple note that reads: _tough luck; you’d eat anything I hand to you, anyway_.

So, he scans further down the page, fully expecting a similar message next to the name “mosshead”, with an insult tossed in perhaps, but he’s shocked to find that at the bottom of the page, there’s a neatly written “Zoro”, followed by several lines of crossed out writing, before he’s met with perhaps the most thought out recipe of them all. It’s for a Quiche Lorraine, and in brackets next to the list of ingredients, reads the words _try to use minimal cream and more bacon; Zoro likes it that way_.

Zoro’s brows furrow, because as he remembers it, Sanji’s only made a Quiche Lorraine for them once, and Zoro had only offhandedly mentioned that he preferred extra bacon instead of a lot of cream. He’s not even sure if anyone’d even heard it, because at the time, Luffy had been whining loudly about a lack of meat on the table.

Sanji obviously had, though. Sanji had obviously heard him.

And it just makes Zoro even more confused, because he’d said it quietly – almost as a mutter – and to have heard it, Sanji must have been paying close attention. He wonders why Sanji never said anything – Zoro would have expected a boot to the head, and a reprimand to _appreciate the goddamned food, marimo!_

He sure as hell wasn’t expecting Sanji to take it to heart, and start changing around his own recipes to suit Zoro’s needs.

He frowns, and thinks of all the times he’s complained about small, irrelevant things regarding Sanji’s food; all the times the rest of the crew have; and wonders if Sanji stores those bits of information away, too – if he sits down and changes around his recipes just to satisfy them a little more the next time.

Come to think of it, he’s never needed to complain about the same thing twice.

Zoro feels really really awful, suddenly. Because while he’s been busy whining like a first-class snob; for no reason whatsoever except to try and rile up the blonde; Sanji’s been truly considering all his criticism the entire time, staying up at night to carefully change around his already almost-perfect recipes.

There must be a lot of things that Sanji does for their crew that none of them even know about. That he’d never thought to tell anyone; that he didn’t expect anyone to thank him for.

Zoro didn’t know that this side of Sanji existed – he’d always thought that the blonde was quick to brag – but maybe he’s been bragging about all the wrong things; the things that don’t matter, and hiding away the things that do.

Zoro’s beginning to doubt whether he even knows Sanji at all. And for some odd reason, he feels like he’s stumbled into something that he shouldn’t have – or at least shouldn’t have read without permission.

But even so, he has to grudgingly admit that he’s developed a new sort of respect for Sanji; and for the first time, it doesn’t relate to his excellent fighting skills.

Deciding that he should let Sanji sleep for a while longer, he sets the paper down and quietly exits the galley, mind swirling with new information, and completely forgetting about grabbing a bottle of sake on his way out.

 

xxx

 

It’s early in the morning the day after Zoro discovers Sanji’s secret that they’re attacked by marines.

It’s nothing huge; nothing to properly worry about, really, just a small ship that should have been dealt with easily. They’d somehow sneaked onto the Sunny without being noticed, though, because Usopp had accidentally fallen asleep while on guard after staying up most of the night messing with his slingshot.

It’s nothing that they can’t deal with, though, and theoretically the Straw Hats should have made quick work of the marines. There’s only a couple hundred of them, maximum. None are skilled, by the looks of things, so Zoro unsheathes two katana with a predatory glint in his eye and a shit-eating grin on his face.

He hasn’t been in a proper fight in ages – not since the whole Sanji situation started.

Within a few minutes, the majority of the marines are in the sea, knocked off by the Straw Hats and unwilling to climb back on board anytime soon.

Zoro’s okay with that.

The flow of opponents has died down considerably, so Zoro sheaths his katana and watches his nakama take down the few stragglers with glee.

It’s then that he notices the lone marine advancing on Sanji, who’s standing on the other side of the deck and watching the entertainment.

Sanji doesn’t appear to have noticed, himself.

Zoro’s just about to shout a warning, or move closer or something, but before he can unsheathe a katana and get close enough to do any damage, the marine pulls out a gun.

For Zoro, it happens in slow motion.

He’s running towards them, and there’s a yell escaping his mouth, when he hears it.

The sound is what registers first – the unmistakeable sound of a bullet being fired. And then.

And then, Sanji’s falling.

Blood, pooling around his shoulder.

Zoro’s katana swiping clean through marine flesh.

The crew’s panicked screams.

_“DOCTOR, QUICK!! SOMEONE CALL A DOCTOR!!”_

_“YOU’RE THE DOCTOR!!"_

_“AHHHHHH!!!”_

But all he can focus on is Sanji.

The way he’s clutching his shoulder, gritting his teeth to ease the pain.

The way the pupil of the single eye Zoro can see is blown wide in shock.

The small gasps, and the ragged breathing.

And all he can think is, _what just happened_?

How had Sanji not _noticed in time?!_

Distantly, he’s aware that he’s kneeling beside Sanji, the crew crowding around now that they’ve gotten rid of the last of the marines.

He tries to resist laying a hand down on Sanji’s good shoulder as a point of comfort.

Sanji probably wouldn’t appreciate it, anyway.

 

xxx

 

Chopper makes quick work of patching Sanji up.

“It’s not infected and the bullet didn’t hit bone,” he breaths, obviously relieved, “As long as you come in for a check-up twice a week, and change your bandages weekly, you should be as good as new in a few months.”

Sanji nods in understanding, letting out a long breath. “Okay.”

“And try not to strain it too much!!! I know how you and Zoro get, it’s not good for the wound!” Chopper exclaims, gesturing wildly with his hoofs.

At the mention of Zoro’s name, Sanji’s eyes flicker briefly over to the man, who’s leaning against the infirmary doorframe, and watching on with the rest of the crew.

“Got it, Chopper. I’ll try not to,” Sanji attempts to chuckle, but it comes out sounding forced.

Zoro doesn’t laugh.

Nobody else does, either.

Zoro guesses that they’ve finally all noticed that something’s not right, then.

The normal Sanji would never have let an enemy go unnoticed, and _definitely_ would’ve avoided being shot by an amateur with no aim.

Nami’s the one to finally break the silence.

“Sanji… are you okay?"

Sanji’s quick to reply. “Of course, Nami-san! Don’t worry, it’s not such a horrible wound - I’ve suffered much worse! ~Although I’m delighted that a beautiful flower such as yourself would be worried about me!~” Sanji’s tone is purposefully light, and he’s not looking at Nami in the eye as he says it.

It’s obvious that Nami wasn’t talking about the injury, and Zoro thinks that Sanji knows it, too.

So the fact that he’s avoiding the subject, even when it’s Nami asking in her most genuine tone, is a little worrying.

A lot worrying.

It’s-the-end-of-the-world-and-we’re-all-going-to-die kind of worrying.

Nami frowns, but doesn’t push it. Neither does the rest of the crew.

Even Luffy knows to stay quiet, which means that this is _serious_ , maybe _even more_ serious than Zoro’s made it out to be.

Not good.

“So…” Nami says instead, “I know that this is probably not a good time, but Sanji has the dusk-to-midnight watch tonight, but he needs to stay in here so that Chopper can keep an eye on him. That means someone else needs to take his spot on watch.”

It’s a change of topic if Zoro ever saw one, but then Sanji’s protesting.

“I’m _fine_! I don’t need anyone to give up their sleep for me, honestly- “

Chopper’s about to cut in to insist otherwise, Zoro can tell, so before anyone else can speak, he finds his own mouth opening.

“I’ll do it.”

Everyone in the room turns to look at him at the same time, and it’s a little creepy the way that they’re just openly gaping at him, but he doesn’t take his words back.

“Zoro,” Nami hesitates, “Are you sure? Because you love sleeping, and your own shift was only yesterday!”

Eight people are still openly staring, but Zoro just shrugs, and takes in the way Sanji’s eye is wide with shock, staring straight into Zoro’s for the first time in days, with his mouth hanging open slightly. He looks lost for words. “Sure.”

There’s a silence, and then Nami finds her voice.

“Umm. Okay,” Nami says. “But you better not fall asleep, we don’t need a repeat of this morning!”

Usopp looks awfully guilty, but Zoro’s quick to step in before he can start apologising again.

He grunts.

“I _won’t_ ,” he assures, gaze still locked with Sanji’s. “When have I _ever_ fallen asleep on guard?”

He hasn’t, and Nami can’t think of a time, either, so she drops it.

Sanji’s the next to speak up.

Zoro’s fully expecting a protest against being treated like a patient, or needing help from Zoro of all people, but what comes out of Sanji’s mouth honestly surprises him. He’s never heard Sanji say the words before.

“Thanks, Zoro.”

It’s breathed out on an exhale, and it just sounds so _genuine_ , somehow, that Zoro bites down on the diverting remark he’d originally planned and instead just settles for a simple, “You’re welcome.”

The answering smile Sanji gifts him with is small, and barely curves his lips at all, but it’s so obviously honest and _natural_ , so unlike the others that he’s been forcing for days, that Zoro finds himself admitting that he’d willingly take over all his night shifts if Sanji would continue to smile at him like that.

 

xxx

 

He doesn’t let himself worry about this detail until later, when it’s cold and windy up in the crow’s nest, and he’s tired from staying up half the night for two nights in a row.

He doesn’t regret his decision, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Gasp*
> 
> Yes, you read right. I just did do that.
> 
> My main [Tumblr](https://hazzilyeverafter.tumblr.com/), and my side blog for [One Piece](https://hazzilyeverafter-onepiece.tumblr.com/). Please come visit my new accounts :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoro still doesn’t understand… until he does.

The morning after taking over Sanji’s shift, Zoro’s sitting in the kitchen, eating breakfast with the crew and trying to hide his yawns behind a spoon. The food is rather meagre, if he says so himself, because Sanji’s still on bed rest and so the others had to cook.

He swallows his mouthful of Nami’s lumpy broth and cringes. After eating Sanji’s food for so long, nothing else seems to satisfy his taste buds. The bread baked by Usopp tastes bland, the eggs scrambled by Franky are rubbery, and even Robin’s coffee isn’t up to standard, because she doesn’t know the exact way he likes to take it like Sanji does.

He’s been spoiled, honestly.

And he’s beginning to see more and more of the things Sanji does for their crew; small things that fly over their heads unnoticed most of the time, but that require effort from the chef all the same.

Like how he customises all their meals to their individual tastes; Zoro doesn’t think anyone in the crew has paid enough attention to notice before now, but as he looks around the table, it’s painfully obvious that people are starting to get the idea. They’re stabbing at the food on their plates with disinterest plastered over their faces, not seeming all that into feeding themselves, suddenly. Nothing like the enthusiasm that the breakfast table normally consists of – no exclaims of delight as they try something created by Sanji that just happens to suit their tastes perfectly.

Zoro’s beginning to doubt that any of those times were coincidences. He’s starting to think that Sanji’s been mentally taking notes on each of their daily food choices, and working around them when preparing their meals.

Even Luffy’s whining about the food, and there’s plenty of meat on the table. Bacon, although slightly burnt on the sides, is heaped in mountains in front of him, but Luffy’s barely touched any of it – saying how it’s not nearly tasty enough.

Zoro wonders how they all survived before meeting Sanji; before dining with five-star food on a daily basis became a necessity.

Finally having had enough of the monstrosities that the crew are calling food, he pushes back from the table, leaving his half-finished plate where he sat.

He’s just about out of the galley door when Nami calls after him.

“Oh, hey, Zoro!” She says as she stands up from the table, moving into the kitchen before coming back out with two plates in hand. “Would you mind dropping these off at the infirmary? They’re for Chopper and Sanji.”

He shrugs, before grabbing the plates off of her. “Sure.”

“Thanks,” Nami sighs out in relief, patting him on the arm before turning back around to finish her breakfast.

Holding the plates, Zoro makes his way to the medical bay, where both Chopper and Sanji are stationed to keep a watch on any potential changes in Sanji’s wound. Infections can be deadly, apparently.

Knocking on the door, Zoro waits for a “come in!” from Chopper before pushing the door open with his shoulder.

Inside, Sanji’s sitting up in bed with a pleading look on his face directed at Chopper. He probably wants to be out of bed rest, and making the crew breakfast. He’s awfully insistent on cooking the crew’s every single meal.

To this day, Zoro’s actually never seen him miss cooking a meal once – he’d soldiered on and ignored Chopper’s cries when he’d been injured before, but lately he’s been putting up less of a fight for everything.

Zoro can see that Sanji’s already regretting agreeing to Chopper.

He’s likely not going to make the same mistake twice.

Zoro grins, and leans against the door until it closes behind him.

Chopper and Sanji finally look up at him then, the reindeer instantly brightening up upon seeing the plates in Zoro’s hands.

Sanji just looks remotely horrified.

“Who… who made breakfast?” Sanji asks on a croaked whisper.

Zoro cocks his head in thought, handing over Chopper’s plate as he makes a move to grab it. “Mainly Nami, I think? Though Usopp, Franky and Robin also helped.”

Sanji seems to visibly die a little inside.

“Nami and Robin made breakfast?!” He groans, burying his head in his hands before wincing and gingerly lowering his arms. The bullet wound still hurt, obviously.

Zoro rolls his eyes. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, shit-cook. They were happy to.”

Sanji seems to wilt even further. He wails, “But my beautiful ladies… They shouldn’t have had to! It’s my job, not theirs, and they shouldn’t have had to shoulder my responsibilities!”

Zoro frowns hard at how self-deprecating Sanji sounds. “Shut up, shit-cook. You haven’t let anyone down, and nobody’s mad at you. They just want you to get better as soon as possible, so you can drag your butt back into the kitchen and feed us!”

At Zoro’s words, Sanji winces before his eyes flutter closed, and he rests his head on his good arm, burying his own fingers in his hair. “You sound mad,” he whispers, not quite looking Zoro in the eye.

Zoro’s not sure what to say.

He’s just about to reassure the chef that he’s _not_ mad, when Chopper obliviously butts in.

“Urgh. What _is_ this? It tastes _horrible_.” He spits out his mouthful of egg.

Sanji seems to have an aneurism at this.

“WHAT?? IS IT THAT BAD?! IF NOBODY’S WILLING TO EAT IT, THEN I DEFINITELY NEED TO GET BACK INTO THE KITCHEN AND PREPARE A PROPER NUTRITIOUS MEAL!” He’s already half out of bed.

…He seems to have snapped out of his insecurities, at least.

However, on the other hand…

“You are not going to the kitchen to cook,” Zoro states firmly. Sanji gifts him with a stiff glare, and is just opening his mouth to reply when Chopper speaks up.

“Zoro’s right, Sanji. Your shoulder is still in it’s early healing stages, and picking up pots and pans will only put on unnecessary strain that may cause the stiches to tear.” Chopper says apologetically. And then, before Sanji can convince him otherwise, Chopper is hopping off of his seat and heading for the door. “I’m just going to take my plate back to the kitchen, and see what else is on offer. Zoro, make sure Sanji doesn’t leave.” With that, he’s gone.

Zoro turns back around to face Sanji.

He takes a good long look at him, and Sanji begins to shift uncomfortably and dart his eyes around the room at the attention. The bags under his eyes have decreased slightly, but Zoro would bet it was due to the drugs that Chopper had given him over actual sleep.

Sighing, Zoro walks closer with Sanji’s plate.

Sanji watches him carefully, stock still but not shying away just yet, either.

Zoro counts it as an achievement.

“Here, you’re going to hate it, but try it anyways.” Zoro says softly, offering the plate in his hand to Sanji.

Sanji looks at it for a while, and then flicks his eyes up to Zoro’s face before refocussing his attention on the food, reaching out his hand to slowly take it off Zoro.

He takes one bite, before he’s spitting it out and practically retching.

“Holy shit, Chopper wasn’t kidding when he said this was horrible. Your foot would probably taste better.” Upon saying this, Sanji immediately jerks his head up, watching Zoro’s face with rounded eyes as if he hadn’t quite meant to let that last line slip. When he realises that Zoro isn’t going to sever his arms off with his katana or something, however, he visibly relaxes again and lets himself slump forward. Zoro doesn’t like it, though. Doesn’t like how after their argument, Sanji’s been looking at him like he’s dangerous, and as if he’d attack if ever Sanji said the wrong thing.

And the thing is, Sanji’s always taunted him. He’s said far worse things than mentioning the taste of Zoro’s feet, so he doesn’t understand why Sanji’s suddenly so worried about what comes out of his mouth.

He doesn’t understand _Sanji_ , anymore. He might as well admit it.

He decides he may as well ask again, in a more civilised manner this time.

“Hey.” He waits until he has all of Sanji’s attention. “What’s wrong?”

Sanji’s demeanour instantly shifts. His back straightens lightning fast, and his hackles raise so far that his shoulders almost reach his ears.

“Nothing!” He snaps, choosing to glare daggers at the opposite wall instead of looking Zoro in the eye like he normally would when speaking in such a challenging tone.

Zoro’s just about to snap back, when a thought hits him.

Maybe Sanji’s _not_ challenging him, this time. Maybe it’s an act of defence, instead.

Maybe it’s _always_ been an act of defence.

Zoro doesn’t entertain that thought for too long, because just the thought of being so wrong about Sanji makes him feel sick.

But could it be? Could Sanji have been trying to protect himself from Zoro’s jabs and insults by jabbing and insulting him back, _all this time_?

But that doesn’t make _sense_ , because what would Sanji be defending himself from? Surely he knows that Zoro’s only playing, when he purposefully gives the cook a hard time?

Surely he knows that Zoro doesn’t mean it?

_But you’ve never really talked this through with him, have you, Zoro? You two have always just been at each other’s throats, but never have you actually told each other why, or what it means._

He shakes his head to clear his thoughts, and looks at Sanji. He’s still avoiding his gaze, but now there’s an almost nervous tension holding his body stock still. He’s not even blinking; the only movement Zoro can see is where Sanji’s chewing his bottom lip absentmindedly, as if he doesn’t realise he’s doing it.

Sighing, Zoro drops to sit on the end of the bed, startling Sanji and making him jolt before scampering backwards, so that he’s sitting as far away from Zoro as possible, with his arms wrapped around him legs and his chin propped up on his knees.

Zoro doesn’t like it. Doesn’t like how small that position makes Sanji look; how frail, almost.

He doesn’t like it at all.

In fact, he’d be willing to get kicked halfway across the deck and into the ocean – he’d be happy to, even – if Sanji would just uncurl himself and stop looking so uncomfortable.

Because they’ve been a lot of things in each other’s presence – angry, hot-headed, violent – but never, _ever_ have they been uncomfortable.

Zoro doesn’t like how much their relationship has changed.

“Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” Zoro asks in as calm a tone as he can muster, and it comes out sounding only a little wounded.

Sanji positively _flinches_ at this, hunching in on himself further before moving his eyes from the wall to his lap instead.

“You wouldn’t understand,” He says on a whisper, drawing shapes onto the sheets with the tip of a finger.

“Try me,” Zoro challenges, grabbing Sanji’s hand so as to stop its movements.

Sanji’s next reaction is so fast that even Zoro doesn’t see it coming.

His arm tenses for a split second, before he’s practically _ripping_ it out of Zoro’s grip, hugging it close to his body. Such abrupt movement must have hurt Sanji’s shoulder, but he clenches his teeth and ignores it, turning his body away instead. His entire demeanour is _screaming_ defensive.

And Zoro feels unwanted, suddenly. Because it may have been hostile with Sanji before, but it’s never been like this.

Zoro doesn’t understand why he feels like he’s been rejected.

Sanji keeps quiet, though, and Zoro’s just about to give up and leave when he speaks up.

“It’s not that simple.”

Sanji’s voice is choked, as if he’s trying to hold back an entire ocean of emotion with just a single, _flimsy_ dam. Zoro can’t see his face, though, because blonde hair is dangling in the way, so he’s left feeling lost and confused, because what does Sanji _mean_?

He’s speaking in riddles, and Zoro still doesn’t understand why he can’t know – why Sanji is _so sure_ that he can’t help.

He understood Sanji much better when he was screaming his thoughts about Zoro right in his face – as bluntly as possible, preferably – because at least he knows how to deal with that. He knows that all he’s required to do is scream them right back, hopefully even louder than Sanji.

Now Sanji’s being reserved and quiet, and Zoro is out of his element, because what’s _even quieter_ than silence? Zoro doesn’t know, so he can’t win – and to be honest, he’s not even sure if he wants to.

And he knows that it’s not a game – but he really wants it to be, because then he can just say that he gives up, and then Sanji can rub his win in Zoro’s face and gloat a bit, but then it’ll all go back to _normal_. And at this point, Zoro may be willing to give an arm and a leg for things to return to how they used to be. But Zoro would have to be stupid not to realise that this is serious.

He’s scared of stuffing this up, because he knows, deep down, that a lot is depending on how this turns out.

So, he decides to bide his time.

Sanji’s started to fidget with the sheets, again, resolutely avoiding his gaze while twisting his fingers into the duvet. He’s bunching up the material, and it’s obviously a distraction, but Zoro doesn’t stop him this time.

Sanji obviously doesn’t want him to; doesn’t even want him _there_ , by the look of things.

And it shouldn’t be a surprise, knowing their relationship – but Zoro feels a little hurt, all the same.

“Okay,” he says simply.

When he waits for a minute and there’s still no reply, he gets up to leave.

Sanji’s shoulders slump, and his hands slip out from where they’d been buried in the sheets, but he doesn’t call Zoro back.

As he’s slipping out of the room, Zoro wonders what that means. Did Sanji want Zoro to push until he told him? Or was he just glad that Zoro was going?

Zoro doesn’t know the answer, just like he doesn’t know the answer to what’s bothering Sanji, or why he won’t tell Zoro. He’s never been very perceptive with these things, so he decides to go to someone who is.

He decides to go to Robin.

 

xxx

 

Robin agrees.

Of _course_ she agrees, she’s obviously worried about Sanji too, but it’s a weight off of Zoro’s chest, anyway.

So Zoro’s currently walking in circles on deck, waiting for Robin to finish speaking with Sanji in the infirmary. And he’s not pacing in nervousness, he’s _not_ , he’s just exercising his legs.

Yes. Walking is a very good way to build leg muscle, so he’s heard.

But Robin’s been in there for a while, and Zoro hasn’t heard any screaming (not that Sanji would ever scream at a lady, but he _has_ been different lately), so he’s guessing that Sanji’s decided to open up and talk to Robin.

She _is_ very manipulative.

And the little twinge he gets at the thought of Sanji explaining to Robin what he refuses to tell Zoro _isn’t_ because of jealousy, dammit.

When the door to the sick bay opens and Robin reappears, Zoro immediately jogs over, but before he can open his mouth to ask, Robin shakes her head.

She grabs him by the forearm, and steers him silently to the crow’s nest, with a frown on her features and a troubled look in her eyes.

Which is starting to freak Zoro out, to be honest, because Robin is so chilled most of the time that nothing seems to faze her. To see her so wound up over whatever Sanji told her is starting to worry him.

When they finally reach the crow’s nest, Robin lets his arm go with a sigh, and slowly sits down.

Zoro follows her.

Then, once he’s settled, Robin looks at him – _really_ looks at him, with a kind of calculating look in her eyes that she normally reserves for the enemy, when she’s deciding how to kill them in the most painful and morbid way possible.

It doesn’t settle Zoro’s nerves at all.

He tries to stare back evenly, but after a minute or so he cracks, and looks away.

Robin doesn’t remove her gaze, though.

“Zoro,” She starts, making Zoro meet her eyes again. “Have you ever wondered, say… Whether you’ve been treating Sanji a little unfairly?”

He frowns. A little unfairly? Well, they do fight…

“Yeah, probably,” He admits. “But he’s not any better to me!”

Robin’s frown deepens.

Zoro’s worried it’ll become permanent.

“But is it the _same_?” She presses. “Because I don’t think it is. You two have always fought, sure, but he’s always been fair to you. He respects your boundaries, and when you do something well, he’s not afraid to admit it.”

Zoro’s just about to argue back that _excuse me_ , he _does_ respect Sanji’s boundaries, and he _does_ compliment Sanji sometimes, but he stops himself.

Because he doesn’t, does he?

Just this morning he’d noticed how much effort Sanji puts into cooking their meals, and the other day he found out that Sanji alters his recipes to suit the crew’s – _Zoro’s_ – needs.

But he’s never really shown his appreciation for it.

Sanji’s probably not looking for a compliment, or anything – that may be going a little overboard – but the least Zoro could do is shut up and stop complaining, especially considering that his complaints hold no substance and don’t even really mean anything, anyway.

He thinks back to himself.

Whenever he perfects a new sword skill, he’s never heard Sanji criticise it. All he gets is a nod, or perhaps a challenge to fight.

But that’s not the _same_ , is it? It’s not the same as straightforwardly saying that his new skill is bad – it’s an offered chance to put it to the test, so that he can challenge himself and improve it.

And the boundaries thing – somehow, Zoro doesn’t think that Robin means not crowding into Sanji’s space.

He lets himself think, and suddenly he gets it.

He _gets_ it.

Because he’s never breached Sanji’s personal bubble, or anything – but he _has_ broken into something that Sanji may not be comfortable with.

His kitchen.

He’s always took it for granted, almost, that Sanji never seems to care too much about missing booze – not as much as missing rations, anyway, so Luffy’s always the one who receives most of the beatings – but that doesn’t mean that Sanji is _okay_ with it.

He tries to imagine someone touching his katana – his _Wado_ – without his permission, and almost instinctively moves his hand to hover above her hilt protectively.

He stops himself in time, but he _doesn’t_ manage to stop the overwhelming feeling of regret from washing over him.

Because he’s never realised how much respect Sanji has shown him – on the things that _matter_ – and now that he has, he realises how much he hasn’t been doing the same.

How much he hasn’t valued Sanji like he deserves.

He needs to fix things.

Robin’s watching him carefully, and she seems to find what she’s looking for in his eyes.

“Then maybe you’ve found a place to start,” she says softly into the silence, before offering a small smile, and walking away.

Zoro sits there for a long time, after.

Because for the first time, he thinks that he’s beginning to understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My main [Tumblr](https://hazzilyeverafter.tumblr.com/), and my side blog for [One Piece](https://hazzilyeverafter-onepiece.tumblr.com/). They're both new, so please help me get them off the ground :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoro attempts to fix things with Sanji.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4. Thanks for reading, and a big thank you to all those who have taken the time to leave feedback!

The next morning, at the crack of dawn, Zoro finds himself heading down to the infirmary. And for the first time, he’s not complaining about being up this early – in fact, he’d woken up at this time on purpose.

He’s going to attempt to start fixing things.

And he knows that Sanji’s going to be awake, because his internal clock would have woken him to start breakfast by now. Except, of course – he’s still not allowed to cook.

That’s where Zoro’s planning to come in.

As he walks closer to the infirmary, he hears a commotion that sounds a lot like Chopper trying to restrain a foul-mouthed cook from escaping to the kitchen. He can hear the hysterical cries of a certain reindeer, as he pleads for Sanji to listen to him; to take care of himself for once.

So Zoro does the only logical thing.

He barges in.

He looks up to find both Chopper and Sanji staring at him, mid-wrestle with Sanji half out of the bed as Chopper uses his Heavy Point to pin him down.

Chopper snaps out of it first.

“Thank god! Quick, Zoro, help me restrain Sanji! He’s not healthy enough to cook yet, he may still hurt himself!” Chopper cries, relief in his eyes as he realises that someone has arrived who can help him.

Zoro closes the door behind himself and advances towards the bed.

The look of utter betrayal displayed on Sanji’s face sends uncomfortable shivers down his spine.

He doesn’t get the opportunity to fully approach Sanji, however, as when he’s in kicking range, Sanji lashes out a leg and kicks him in the stomach. _Hard_.

He staggers backwards.

“Get away,” Sanji seethes, venom dripping from every word. “I don’t want you anywhere near me!”

Zoro straightens back up.

“Hang on, just hear me out!” He protests, wary of Sanji potentially kicking out again.

Sanji screams out. “WHY SHOULD I?! IF YOU THINK THAT I’M GOING TO ALLOW YOU TO PIN ME DOWN AND STOP ME FROM DOING WHAT I WANT, _EVEN FOR A SECOND_ , THEN YOU DON’T KNOW ME AT _ALL_!”

Chopper claps a hand over Sanji’s mouth, regaining his grip on Sanji’s torso. “Shhhh! Sanji, you’re going to wake everyone!”

But Zoro tunes him out.

Because he thinks he knows what this is about, now.

This is about Sanji wanting to do what he loves – and this is about Sanji thinking that Zoro doesn’t respect him enough to allow him to do so.

Because it’s different with Chopper – he doesn’t understand what it’s like to love something so much that being deprived of it is unbearable. He doesn’t understand what it’s like to feel incompetent, because your job had to be done by someone else, and _what if something goes wrong when you’re away?_ Because no matter how injured Chopper may ever be, nobody would tell him to stop practicing his medicine and give himself a rest. Nobody would hold him down to a bed so that he doesn’t go and take a look at a sick and desperate patient.

So Chopper would never fully understand what Sanji is going through.

But Zoro does.

Because whenever Zoro’s injured, he gets the same lecture. _Don’t lift weights. Don’t practice your sword techniques.  Don’t push yourself. Don’t train too hard. Actually, don’t train at all. Stay in bed. Do nothing and be satisfied. Listen to Chopper, dammit!!_

So it must sting like the worst form of betrayal, now that Sanji thinks Zoro’s helping Chopper to restrain him. Because Sanji knows that Zoro’s been in the same boat as the one he’s currently stuck in, and he thinks that Zoro doesn’t care enough to help him out.

So Zoro decides to make his move now – the reason he’s up so goddamned early in the first place – before Sanji loses his trust in Zoro completely.

“Relax, cook. I’m not here to tell you to sleep your urges off.”

Sanji seems a little surprised at this, eyes going round and mouth dropping slightly open, and Zoro tries not to let it bother him. Tries not to let himself dwell on how far the trust between them has slipped, if it was ever there at all.

But he’s going to get it back, little by little, step by step. _He will_.

They both need it.

So he opens his mouth again, because it looks like Sanji’s finally giving him a chance to explain himself.

“I get it, you know.” He starts. “That you want to go and cook breakfast, or whatever, and that you don’t want anyone else having to take on the job, because you feel a responsibility to keep the crew healthy and fed. I know you enjoy it, for some reason. And I know that you may be reckless and stupid sometimes – well, always – but you do still value your life, so you wouldn’t push yourself over your limit. So I’ll help convince Chopper, if you need. Which you obviously do.” And then, as a second thought, “Idiot.”

He briefly wonders why he always has to make himself sound like he doesn’t give a damn, but he doesn’t really explore the idea, because there’s a grin forming on Sanji’s face as he realises that he may be getting his way after all, and Zoro finds his thoughts being derailed faster than a train wreck because that smile _belongs on Sanji_.

It looks _good_ on his face.

Zoro thinks that he prefers it over almost any other expression of Sanji’s – he knows that he _definitely_ prefers it over the ever-present scowls and forced smiles and neutral expressions and all the blank stares that have been taking over lately.

His thoughts are interrupted by a suddenly frowning Sanji.

“Hey, asshole.” He says, but he doesn’t sound particularly mad. “I think you’ve got me confused for _you_ , because I’m not reckless or stupid. And I’m definitely not an idiot, because there can only be one of those in the room at a time.” He stares pointedly at Zoro, swinging his leg out and kicking him in the thigh half-heartedly.

Zoro narrows his eyes, but he lets it slide just this once, because he knows that Sanji can kick a hell of a lot harder than what he just demonstrated.

So Sanji’s messing around with him, then.

Zoro can deal with that.

He reaches out before Sanji can retract his leg, and grabs onto it, giving it a good tug. He lets a smirk glide over his features when Sanji lets out a rather undignified squeak, before being dragged down into a lying position on the bed.

“You little shit!” He balks, laughing as he tries to get up with one of his legs still in Zoro’s grip.

He’s _laughing_.

Zoro made him _laugh_.

He feels a little bit proud of himself.

He’s just about to retort with something smooth and cunning, like _I’m not little, but the rest is up for debate_ , when someone clears their throat.

They both look up at the same time, to see Chopper standing hesitantly to the side, back to his normal-sized self.

How had they forgotten that he was there?!

Zoro hears a splutter leave Sanji, and he wonders if his face looks as red as Zoro’s feels.

Chopper interrupts his thoughts. “I’m sorry, Sanji. I know it must be hard, but you really shouldn’t be cooking just yet. You could really hurt yourself!”

Zoro turns just in time to see the grin slip right off of Sanji’s face, and for his expression to slide into the carefully-blank category.

Meaning that he’s hiding his emotions.

Zoro doesn’t like it.

(It turns out that Zoro doesn’t like a lot of things, but hey, what do you know?)

He turns back around to face Chopper, and he can feel a twitch by his left temple. He thinks it may be showing.

“Chopper.” He growls, and he feels a little bit of regret at seeing Chopper cower a bit, but he steels himself. ~~Puppy dog~~ reindeer eyes shouldn’t work so well on him, he’s a demon, dammit! “Don’t do this, okay? I understand that you’re just trying to do your job and look out for him, but he’ll be fine!”

Chopper opens his mouth with his hoofs on his hips, but Zoro ploughs through. He may need to compromise.

“How about this, then? Let him cook breakfast. If he busts his stitches and bleeds out on the floor–“ Sanji kicks him in the calf. Zoro ignores him. ”–then you can put him back on bed duty. “But if everything goes fine, then you have to let him keep cooking. Deal?”

Chopper still looks unsure, so Zoro adds, “Come on, Chopper! Give him a chance!”

So with a sigh, Chopper relents. “Fineeee.” He agrees. And then with renewed vigour, “But you have to be careful, okay?? Don’t use the heavy pots or try to move your injured arm too fast or do too many things at once or–!”

He never makes it through with his sentence though, because suddenly Chopper finds himself being thrown in the air, and lets out a squeak that puts even Sanji’s to shame. Sanji catches him and then spins him around, before placing him down on his seat, thanking him profusely with a beaming smile.

Then he turns around to Zoro.

“I knew you had some brains behind all that moss, marimo!”

He sniggers to himself before walking out of the infirmary, making sure to tread on all of Zoro’s toes in the process. He pauses at the door.

“Breakfast in an hour, moss-head. Don’t be late!”

And with that, he’s gone.

Zoro doesn’t even find himself all that pissed off at the blonde, which is worrying.

He briefly entertains the thought of asking Chopper to give him a check-up to see if he’s sick, but quickly dismisses the thought.

Whatever. It was probably just a temporary malfunction of all the brain cells that he _totally has in his head_ , despite what Sanji says.

 

xxx

 

He walks into the kitchen an hour later, eager to taste what Sanji’s cooked up after a _whole day_ of eating disgusting food.

(God, they’ve been pampered to death.)

But, what he sees on the table is enough to stop him in his tracks.

Because _no_.

Sanji _didn’t_.

Except.

Except, he _did_ , and Zoro wills himself to walk to his seat normally, before the rest of the crew can turn and stare at him as he awkwardly stands there.

Because on the table is a Quiche Lorraine.

And so with his heart hammering out of his chest, he takes a slice.

And then he takes a bite.

And then he takes another bite, just to confirm his suspicions.

And he’s right.

Because the quiche he can taste definitely has less cream, and more bacon.

And Luffy seems to know it, too, because he’s taking his fourth slice already when Sanji’s shoe comes in contact with his face.

“No more for you, Luffy.” He scolds, pressing his heel harder into Luffy’s forehead to really drive his point home. “I want everyone to have their fair share, first.”

And Sanji’s not looking at Zoro as he says it, but Zoro has a feeling that what he means to say is, _I want the marimo to have his fair share, first_.

Zoro feels slightly unsettled, and it’s nothing to do with the food.

He wonders how many times a similar instance has occurred – where Sanji has said one thing but meant another – so that each member of their crew could try his newest masterpiece, especially designed for them.

Without any of them realising it, too, because as Zoro looks around the room, nobody looks bothered. They just continue with what they’re doing, and even Luffy has moved on to the bacon and sausages.

Probably tailored to _his_ taste, Zoro realises.

He tries to act normal, because Sanji doesn’t know about Zoro seeing his recipe sheet, yet. And now that he knows that Sanji’s always keeping an ear out for any complaints on his food so that he can work to adjust his dishes, Zoro makes sure to keep silent.

Because, as usual, there’s nothing to critique.

At the end of the meal, he gets up with the rest of the crew, and leaves the galley.

He pretends that he can’t feel Sanji’s confused stare directed at his back.

 

xxx

 

It turns out that Sanji didn’t die making breakfast, so Chopper agrees to let him keep cooking.

Zoro finds out about it in the form of hearing Sanji’s cheers from the crow’s nest, where he’s training his thoughts away.

He doesn’t feel a sense of accomplishment, dammit.

 

xxx

 

Zoro’s in the mood for some sake.

And this isn’t new _at all_ , exactly, but this time he’s taking a detour instead of heading straight to the kitchen.

After circling around the Sunny’s deck three times, he finds Sanji leaning against the railing, smoking one of his cigarettes. He’s staring out at the sun setting into the sea, looking like he’s in a trance, and Zoro’s just about to back off and ask about his booze later when Sanji speaks.

“What do you want?”

Zoro would never admit it, but he jumps about a foot into the air.

“To see you fall into the ocean,” He says in the most serious voice he can manage, once he’s regained his composure.

At least Sanji’s observation skills have improved, then.

At this, Sanji turns around to face him, and Zoro sees a brief look of wariness and uncertainty cross his face before his features smooth out, and he smirks.

It turns out that Zoro’s ‘most serious voice’ isn’t any better than his ‘most serious look’, because the next thing he knows, there’s a foot planted in his face, and he’s sent sprawling across the deck.

He springs back up, ready to unsheathe his katana if Sanji’s looking for a fight, but the sight he’s greeted with is Sanji clutching his stomach as he howls with laughter, tears beading in his eyes as he gasps for breath.

He’s crying again, and Zoro’s once more the cause, but this time, Zoro finds that he’s okay with it. Even if it’s at his expense.

He’d be okay with anything, as long as Sanji doesn’t cry for real because of him, again.

“Y-you should h-have seen y-your f-face!!” Sanji manages to splutter between peals of laughter, and Zoro lets go of the sheaths of his swords.

“Shut up,” He grouses, rubbing his cheek that no doubt has a shoe print on it. “You caught me off guard, that’s all.”

Sanji looks up from where he’s bent over to keep his stomach from splitting open. Upon seeing the shoe-shaped print on Zoro’s face, he falls back into hysterical laughter.

Zoro feels a bit irked at being the butt-end of a joke that Sanji finds so funny.

“Fine, then,” He says childishly. “Be that way. I’ll just go and break into your sake supply without asking, instead.”

Just as he’s turned and is about to march off, he feels a hand grab his shoulder.

When he turns around again, Sanji’s not laughing anymore.

Instead, there’s a crease etched between his curly eyebrows, and his one blue eye is piercing in it’s gaze into Zoro’s golden ones. He’s got his head tilted to the side, as if trying to view Zoro from a different angle in an effort to understand him, and his left hand is still resting on Zoro’s shoulder while his right one holds onto his forgotten cigarette.

Blue eye meeting golden ones sends a strange shiver down his back.

Zoro shakes himself out of it, and wonders if he should warn Sanji about the fact that his cigarette has almost burned down to the filter, and that he could burn his fingers.

Before he can, Sanji speaks.

“You… were going to ask? To take some sake from the kitchen?” He clarifies, and Zoro can almost see the cogs working inside his head at this new information.

“Yeah,” He says with a shrug, not wanting Sanji to make a big deal out of it.

But it clearly _is_ a big deal, because Sanji asks about it again. “Why?”

And the thing is, he sounds genuinely confused.

As if, for the _life of him_ , he can’t think of a reason why Zoro would ever consider asking for permission.

It hits harder than the kick to his face.

“I just thought you’d appreciate it.” He says, not looking Sanji in the eye as he starts to remove the hand from his shoulder.

“I do,” Sanji breaths, and Zoro freezes.

Because he has no idea why Sanji’s whispering, and because he can feel Sanji’s breath fanning over his face, but mainly because this moment feels important.

So he looks back up, and when he meets Sanji’s gaze, which is so, so, _so_ full of emotion – of _gratitude_ – he holds it.

The moment feels suspended – and Zoro’s not quite sure what’s happening, but he gets the feeling that something has changed between them. For the better.

Maybe things can finally start to heal.

Maybe things are already healing.

He doesn’t know, but when a minute passes and Sanji’s still holding his gaze, Zoro realises that Sanji’s not the only one holding something.

Zoro’s still holding his hand, from when he’d tried to remove it from his shoulder.

He quickly drops it, and the movement seems to startle Sanji out of his momentary stupor.

They both step back.

There’s a silence, where both of them fumble around, unsure of what to do, before Zoro decides that he’s going to break it, with news that Sanji probably wants to hear.

“You might want to drop it, by the way.” When all Sanji does is look at him with a confused expression, Zoro rolls his eyes and clarifies himself. “Your cigarette, dumbass. You’re going to burn your hand if you don’t.”

At this, Sanji jolts, and only just seems to realise that he’s still holding it.

“Shit!”

And with that, the cigarette disappears overboard.

Zoro knows how much Sanji values his hands for cooking, so he doesn’t comment on Sanji’s panicked reaction.

He would have _before_ , though.

Before all of this happened – maybe a week or so ago.

He wonders what changed.

“And can I?” He finally asks.

Sanji just levels him with a raise of a swirly eyebrow, obviously confused again.

Zoro sighs, and with the amount of times he’s rolled his eyes lately, he’s afraid they’ll get stuck rolled back into his head.

“The _booze_. Can I take some?” He articulates, making sure to speak extra slowly so that Sanji will understand.

“ _Oh_. Yeah, okay.” Sanji finally agrees.

Zoro rolls his eyes again for good measure.

Sanji points a finger at his face. “Keep doing that, marimo! You might actually find a brain back there!”

Zoro splutters indignantly, and he can feel his eyeballs bulging a little at Sanji’s comment.

“But this morning you said that–“

Sanji tuts. “But that was this _morning_. All your brain cells have died out since then.”

Since he can’t think of a witty reply, Zoro just huffs and spins around, making his way into the galley to the sounds of Sanji sniggering behind him.

At least that much hasn’t changed.

 

xxx

 

A week later, and Zoro still hasn’t made an unnecessary critique on any of the cook’s dishes. He thinks that Sanji probably knows that something is up, because every time he remains silent at the table is another time that Sanji’s puzzled frown follows him out of the room.

He doesn’t let up, though.

 

xxx

 

“Okay, anyone think that this dish needs improvement?”

Zoro looks up from where he’s downing his third bowl of lemon and spinach risotto, to see Sanji pointing at the large platter of seafood paella placed at the centre of the table.

“No, Sanji-kun.”

“Of course not, it’s SUPERRR!”

“Nah, it tastes yummy as always! Even though there’s not much meat…”

Zoro can practically see Sanji writing on a mental notepad, _Luffy:_ _Add more meat to seafood paella_.

He frowns a little at how oblivious everyone is. He wonders if he should tell them, but decides against it. It’s not his place.

“What about you, moss-head?”

Zoro looks back up again, and he loathes to admit how willingly he’s responding to the nickname these days.

Sanji’s looking directly at him, now, along with the majority of the crew.

Luffy’s still inhaling food.

Zoro finds it troubling that Sanji feels it’s so strange that he hasn’t been complaining about the food, that he’s bringing up the topic himself. He normally never asks directly about critique for his dishes.

“No,” He begins, removing his gaze from Sanji’s determined one and back to his food. “It’s all good.”

Silence.

Absolute. Silence.

Zoro looks up from his bowl, to see the entire Straw Hat Crew staring at him.

Usopp has a spoon of soup placed to his lips, which is currently dribbling down his chin.

Franky and Chopper have single chopsticks up their noses, another one clutched in their hands.

Nami has paused in the middle of smacking Brook on the head for asking to see her panties.

Luffy has a chicken drumstick halfway to his mouth, but it’s currently suspended in the air.

Zoro slowly looks around the table, and everybody looks dumbstruck.

Except for Robin.

Robin just looks slightly smug.

Curse that bitch.

Even Sanji is speechless, openly gaping at Zoro and completely ignoring Nami and Brook, when normally he would’ve pummelled Brook six feet underground by now, for daring to even _think_ about his dearest Nami-san in that way.

Franky snaps out of it first, slowly removing the chopstick from his nose.

“Zoro, bro… Are you sure you’re not feeling sick?”

The others nod along, seeming to not have found their own voices yet.

Zoro scowls. “What? I’m not allowed to have no complaints for once?”

“It’s not that, bro, it’s just that you haven’t complained in a–“

“Good! Because the paella _is_ good!” He insists with finality, slamming his bowl down on the table to emphasise his point somehow.

It seems to work, because everybody drops it.

Or maybe it’s because of the menacing scowl on his face, he isn’t really sure.

Slowly, everybody goes back to their previous conversations, and Zoro is left to finish his meal in peace.

When Sanji walks around to collect all of their plates, he squeezes Zoro’s shoulder as he passes.

Zoro smiles, because he thinks that they’re finally okay.

 

xxx

 

“Hey, cook.”

“Hmmm?”

“Do I have unconditional access to the booze cabinet, yet?”

“Eat shit! …And what do you mean, _yet_?!”

Yeah… They’re okay.

 

xxx

 

They’re okay for a full six days.

Because on the seventh, something goes wrong.

And things aren’t okay, anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My main [Tumblr](https://hazzilyeverafter.tumblr.com/), and my side blog for [One Piece](https://hazzilyeverafter-onepiece.tumblr.com/).


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoro's stuffed up.
> 
> Again.
> 
> Only this time, it's not so easy to fix...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay first off, sorry for the slightly longer delay between updates, I was a little busy this week.
> 
> But other than that, enjoy Chapter 5!

The morning of the seventh day starts off just like any other.

Zoro’s snoozing on deck, leaning against the mast and just generally being a tripping hazard. Sanji’s in the kitchen, cooking up a storm for the Straw Hat crew’s (namely Luffy’s) enormous appetite. Robin’s reading a book by the mikan trees, enjoying the light, early morning breeze. Everyone else is asleep.

It’s just their typical morning.

It’s just their typical morning… until Zoro’s woken up by a certain blonde-haired chef tripping over his wayward leg.

He cracks an eye open, to see Sanji cursing and stumbling, before regaining his balance and spinning around to glare at Zoro. He lifts up a fist, bending down and waving it in Zoro’s face. His hair is tousled from his near fall, and there’s a vein protruding from his temple.

“Bastard! You’re even in my way when you’re asleep!” Sanji whisper-yells, conscious of waking his Nami-san. “Can’t you control your limbs?! Or at least move your ungraceful sprawl somewhere else!”

Zoro just smirks up at him, cocking his head to the side before yawning and sprawling out even further, just to piss the cook off.

He closes his eyes, knowing he can get away with it.

Sanji would never punch him.

Sanji just growls and swivels around to leave, stomping off a few metres before hastily returning and kicking Zoro’s leg. It’s a soft enough kick, for Sanji’s standards – it barely even moves the swordsman.

…Sanji’s been doing that a lot, lately.

He’s been holding in his power when attacking Zoro, and a Zoro from two weeks ago would have found this rather offensive – as if Sanji’s insinuating he can’t handle his full force, or something. Now, after experiencing a nicer side to Sanji, he’s not sure he ever wants to go back.

It feels more like a friendly brawl when they fight these days – rather than a race to breaking all of the bones in each other’s bodies.

Zoro admits that it’s a lot more fun, this way. He kind of enjoys it.

Not that he’d ever tell Sanji, of course – he’d never be able to live it down.

In the meantime, he just raises an eyebrow mockingly, and closes his eyes.

There’s a pause from Sanji, before Zoro feels another kick to his leg, making him grin wider.

He hears Sanji huff, before there’s a sound of marching footsteps leading away.

He cracks an eye open again, and watches as Sanji approaches the mikan trees, starting to pluck some into a basket that Zoro didn’t even notice he’d been holding.

“~Morning, Robin-chan!~” Sanji does what Zoro likes to call ‘The Noodle Dance’.

He’s a genius at coming up with names. Like, legitimately. He’s a _genius_.

Robin smiles. “Morning, Sanji-kun.”

“Wow, don’t smile at him, Robin – you don’t want him to bleed out through his nose, after all the effort Chopper put into stopping him from bleeding out through his shoulder.” Zoro adds to the conversation in a deadpan tone. “In fact, to be safe, don’t talk to him at all.”

He’s also a genius at pressing Sanji’s buttons.

Robin turns her smile to Zoro, hiding the start of a giggle behind her hand. “Of course, Swordsman-san.”

Sanji looks appalled at this turn of events, stammering at Robin before turning his face to Zoro. He has a murderous look in his eye.

“What did you say, moss-head? Care to repeat that to my face?!”

“Gladly,” Zoro smirks. “Robin shouldn’t smile at you, because you’ll probably have a life-threatening nosebleed. In fact, she shouldn’t–“

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because then there’s a dress shoe pressed to his face.

He skids backwards a few metres from the impact, and when he manages to turn his face back around, there’s a fuming Sanji striding into the kitchen with his basket of mikans. He huffs angrily, before slamming the door closed behind him.

Zoro grins from the ground, because he knows that Sanji’s not truly mad.

That kick was nowhere near meant to harm Zoro – in fact, Zoro’s willing to bet that there’s not even a clear shoeprint on his face. He turns to glance at Robin, who’s smiling at him in thought.

“Seems that you worked it out, Swordsman-san,” she says with a hum. “Good on you. It’s nice to see him back to normal.”

Zoro’s pretty sure that Robin’s not talking about him working out how to rile up Sanji – he’s known how to do that for a while.

He’s fairly sure she means that he’s sorted out the silent fight between them.

He nods in agreement, because he honestly couldn’t agree more. He’s so glad that Sanji’s no longer avoiding him, and that he looks more human and less like a ghost. His skin has returned to its normal pale colour, rather than being the previous dead-looking shade, and the bags that had formed under his eyes are no longer prominent.

Sanji’s smiling, and fighting Zoro, and being observant again. (Although not _really_ that last one – he still tripped over Zoro, after all.)

Most of all, though, Zoro’s glad Sanji’s not crying.

Seeing him so upset is at the top of Zoro’s Ten-Most-Frightening-Things-in-Existence list, and that’s really saying something. Number two on the list is Franky’s lower half, that he had to see _way_ too much of at Water 7. He doesn’t know how Robin stomached actually grabbing him.

He shudders, bringing himself back to his original train of thought.

Anyway.

If Zoro sees Sanji cry again in his lifetime, it’ll be too soon.

He shakes himself out of his stupor, and sees that Robin’s already moved back to her book. He doesn’t think he can go back to sleep, now, with Franky haunting his mind, so he decides to go and see what Sanji’s cooking with the mikans.

He gets up and makes his way into the kitchen.

As soon as Sanji looks over and realises that it’s Zoro, he rolls his eyes and goes back to monitoring the food on the stove.

“What’re you making with the fruit?” Zoro asks, slouching over to the counter and leaning against it.

“Nothing for you,” grouches Sanji, still looking a little put off at Zoro’s earlier comment. “Something for Nami-san and Robin-chan. A dessert, maybe. The rest of you are stuck with porridge.”

He jerks his head, indicating to the pot on the stove.

It’s Zoro’s turn to roll his eyes.

“You pamper the women _way_ too much, you know that? Spoiling them won’t make them any more interested in you.”

Sanji scowls up at him, stabbing the knife in his hand quite violently into a mikan.

“Shut up,” he snaps at Zoro, “That’s not why I treat them differently. They’re ladies – they deserve to be spoilt a little. God knows that chivalry is long dead for the other men on this ship, so it’s up to me to treat them like they deserve.”

Zoro’s eye twitches.

“You make it sound like we treat them horribly!” he snarls, clenching his hands into fists. “We don’t – we treat them just like if they’re anybody else! That’s what they want, too – treating them as if they’re special just because of their gender is sexist!”

Sanji’s eye darkens, and before Zoro can even react, he’s flying out of the kitchen and overboard, straight into the ocean.

He hauls himself back onto the Sunny, dripping from his dip in the ocean, but by then he’s not so angry anymore. Zoro’s willing to bet Sanji’s still fuming, though, because it’s been _ages_ since he’s been kicked so hard that he’s sailed off the ship entirely.

He lifts up his shirt, and yep.

There’s a shoe print on his stomach, printed clearly and already starting to bruise.

Right. So he’s actually pissed off the cook for good, then.

He slinks up to the crow’s nest, and decides to let Sanji cool down for a bit.

He’ll fix everything when breakfast starts.

 

xxx

 

Except, when breakfast rolls around, Sanji’s clearly still seething.

He’s got a cigarette clenched tightly between his teeth, and when he gives Zoro his breakfast, he drops it in front of the swordsman with an irritable clatter.

Before Zoro can say anything, Sanji’s already moved on.

So breakfast passes in a tense silence, everyone picking up on Sanji’s foul mood and meekly eating their food.

Even Luffy steals food from each of them silently, avoiding Sanji’s plate entirely.

Zoro doesn’t think too much into it. He’ll apologise or something later, when the kitchen clears out.

In the meantime, he silently eats his porridge.

As usual, it’s delicious.

He doesn’t comment.

 

xxx

 

Nami leaves the table first, saying that they’re reaching an island soon, and that she needs to go and check the navigation.

Upon hearing that they’re approaching land, Luffy, Usopp, Franky, Brook and Chopper rush outside in their excitement, to see if they can spot the island in the distance.

From the way Luffy screams “A new adventure!! I hope that this island has tasty meat!! It looks like the type to have tasty meat!!”, Zoro guesses that land is in sight.

He needs to hurry, before they dock and Sanji disappears to restock the pantry.

Zoro looks around, and sees that Robin is sitting at the kitchen table with a book, sipping on her coffee as she reads. She has a full coffee pot beside her on the table, so she doesn’t look like she’ll run out of coffee any time soon. Her book looks pretty long, too.

Zoro’s gaze discretely flickers to the blonde chef, who’s clearing the table with a glower on his face.

He turns back to Robin, and tries to send her mind signals telling her to _leave_.

…She doesn’t appear to have received any of them, as she continues to sip her coffee quietly.

Ten minutes later, and Zoro’s run out of water he can drink, so he has no reason to stay at the table any longer.

He debates on drinking Robin’s coffee, too, but then decides that if he does, she’ll start to sense that something’s off.

He also really needs to go to the bathroom from all the water he drank.

So, deciding to leave the apologising until later, he gets up and leaves the room.

 

xxx

 

As he’s making his way out of the bathroom, he hears Nami call that they’ve reached land, and when he looks out he sees that she’s right – they’ve docked at a small port, at an island with multiple small towns and also a marine base.

A _marine base_?! Shit!

He also spots a certain blonde marching into the nearest town, so he hastily follows and tries not to get lost.

By some miracle, he catches up to Sanji just as they’ve entered the market. Just as he’s about to call out, Sanji turns around looking irked.

“Why are you following me?!”

Zoro opens his mouth to reply, when he’s interrupted by a bullet.

Literally a bullet.

It whizzes past the both of them, but is close enough to almost cause damage. He’s immediately alert, dropping the conversation and ignoring the screaming villagers as he reaches to unsheathe his katana, swivelling around to see who fired at them.

He already has a _pretty_ good idea as to who they are, though.

What he finds is a large group of marines staring back, all with weapons out, with one man holding a smoking gun directed at them in his shaking hand.

Yep. He was right.

“Roronoa Zoro and Black-Leg Sanji! We are here to capture you – come peacefully, or we shall have to force you into cooperation!” Bellows what Zoro assumes is a leading officer.

He hears Sanji sigh irritably from behind him, and guesses that he’s also taken up a fighting stance.

“To hell with going peacefully!” Zoro spits back.

He notices that they’re on their own – the other Straw Hats are nowhere to be seen.

He also notices that they’re being charged, so he grips his katana tighter and prepares for a fight.

 

xxx

 

Two seconds in, and he can tell that Sanji’s off.

Or maybe it’s the both of them, he doesn’t know – but they’re not fighting like they normally do, where they complement each other’s moves and balance out each other flawlessly, so that they’re practically invincible.

Sanji’s still angry, so their fighting is a bit stilted – their emotional dispute is taking its toll on their physical one, and it’s impacting their teamwork.

The marines can probably sense it, too.

So, realising that fighting back to back with Sanji isn’t working, Zoro moves off into the crowd of enemies and executes some individual attacks. He spares a glance to see how Sanji’s doing once in a while, because Sanji’s not fighting calmly, and Zoro doesn’t want him to get seriously injured. Sanji also still has a healing bullet wound, so he can’t perform any handstands in case he tears open his stitches.

It takes away a lot of his attacking options.

He can’t keep an eye on Sanji all the time, though, because the marines are like an avalanche – approaching in large numbers incredibly quickly, and Zoro doesn’t want to be buried alive.

He spares another quick glance in Sanji’s direction, but then doubles back to look again in horror, because _oh, no_.

This _cannot_ be happening.

Except, it is.

It is, because Sanji…

Sanji’s facing off against a girl.

And Zoro gets a rapidly sinking feeling in his stomach, because he knows the cook would never fight a female, no matter the circumstances, but that doesn’t mean that the girl he’s up against has the same set of morals.

He looks again, and sees that she clearly doesn’t, because she’s just socked Sanji in the face with surprising speed that even Zoro didn’t see coming.

He can almost hear the sickening _crunch_ from where he’s standing.

A gush of blood starts flowing from Sanji’s nose, and for once, it’s not because he’s seen a hot woman and can’t control his desires.

Zoro wishes it was.

He’s brought back to his own fight when a sword nicks his arm – he was so absorbed in Sanji’s fight that he stopped paying close enough attention to his own.

He uses his Santoryu technique to cut down the marines surrounding him, and tries to fight his way back towards Sanji to help out.

He looks up again, to see Sanji dodging the woman’s attacks, while also fighting off the male marines at the same time. He’s not doing too bad, but she’s landing quite a few hits on him when he doesn’t have enough room to dodge.

It’s slowly taking a toll on Sanji, Zoro can tell.

“Hey, curly-cook! Make your way over here!”

Sanji transfers his attention to Zoro for a split second, and is kicked in the ribs for getting distracted. He stumbles, but regains his footing and continues to dodge the woman’s attacks.

“I don’t need your help!” Sanji shouts, looking insulted at the thought. “I’m not weak!”

Okay.

So Sanji’s still a little angry at him, then.

…Well, he’ll just have to suck it up.

“I’m not saying you’re weak,” Zoro yells around the katana in his mouth, “But I know you’re not going to attack the girl! So let me deal with her – unless this is your way of backing up your point from this morning and proving me wrong, or something, in which case – don’t be stupid! You’re risking your own life!”

Sanji swirls around, fury etched into every feature on his face. “Stop being conceited! As if I’d ever care about what you think!” He looks fully prepared for Zoro to snap back, but looks confused when Zoro’s face pales alarmingly quickly – to almost the same shade as Sanji’s skin tone.

Which… is a bit worrying, actually, because Sanji is a good few shades lighter than Zoro.

He doesn’t have too much time to think about it, though, because the next thing he knows, Zoro’s screaming at him.

He doesn’t understand what Zoro’s saying, until it’s too late.

His world fades to darkness.

 

xxx

 

Zoro sees the woman lift up a leg, and swing it at the back of Sanji’s head.

For Zoro, it’s like a sick sense of déjà vu.

He hears it first.

It’s a sickening _craackkk_ , this time, instead of the sound of a gunshot.

And then Sanji’s falling.

When he hits the ground, this time, Zoro hears the dull thud.

Only this time, Zoro doesn’t run over, because once the marines realize that one of the two pirates is down, they all converge on Zoro.

And this time, Sanji doesn’t get back up.

He doesn’t make a sound.

Zoro’s pretty sure he isn’t even moving.

All he can do is watch as Sanji’s limp figure is carried away, as he tries to fight his way through the masses of remaining marines.

He blames the panic settling in his chest and the uneven breaths escaping from his mouth on the bleeding gash on his arm.

He doesn’t let himself think about the fact that he’s never bothered by physical pain.

He doesn’t let himself think about how the cut isn’t even that deep.

And he definitely, _definitely_ doesn’t let himself think about the other reason for why there may be tears forming in his eyes.

He just puts on a mask of indifference, and ploughs on.

 

xxx

 

Only once Zoro’s taken care of all the marines, does he let himself show his growing panic.

Sanji’s either still unconscious, locked up, or dead, because he _still_ hasn’t come back.

In a moment of weakness, Zoro starts to wonder if maybe he won’t.

If maybe the last conversation they ever share is to be their argument.

If maybe, he doesn’t want that to be the case.

If maybe, he _does_ care about Sanji’s wellbeing.

If maybe, _just maybe_ , he cares more than he should.

He crumples against a nearby wall, and sits as he tries to think clearly through the haze that’s fogged up his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that I portrayed Zoro and Sanji as a lot weaker than they normally are, but I just really needed Sanji to be captured. There were a lot of marines, so maybe that made winning a slower process for them? I dunno.
> 
> My main [Tumblr](https://hazzilyeverafter.tumblr.com/), and my side blog for [One Piece](https://hazzilyeverafter-onepiece.tumblr.com/).


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoro goes to rescue Sanji from the marine base.
> 
> His plan: To wing it.
> 
> (Luffy would approve.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 is here!!
> 
> I know that the time between each of my updates is getting longer, so I apologise - but school's starting up again, so I have less time to write now. Hopefully I can keep the updates coming in a fairly regular pattern *fingers crossed*, though if there's a slight lag between updates, please understand that I haven't abandoned this fic, I'm just busy. Thanks for the patience, it's appreciated.
> 
> This chapter's slightly longer than the others to make up for the delay :)

Okay.

Zoro breathes deeply, and steadies his thoughts.

_Okay._

So Sanji’s been captured. No big deal. Zoro will just have to inform the other Straw Hats, and they’ll rescue Sanji in no time.

Except… it kind of _is_ a big deal.

Because Sanji’s never been captured before by _anyone_ – even in Alabasta when the majority of their crew had been caught and put inside a cage by Crocodile, Sanji never was. He has certainly never been captured by Marines before – and Zoro is actually kind of worried about how they’ll treat him.

Zoro’s fairly certain that Sanji’s currently being held at the marine base on the island, waiting to be shipped off to a proper prison. Knowing that Sanji’s a crew member of the Straw Hat Pirates, Zoro’s guessing the marines will send him off to Impel Down.

…Hopefully they’ll rescue him before that happens. Zoro doesn’t particularly fancy breaking into such a high security prison, but he knows that if he has to in order to save Sanji, he’d go willingly.

He thinks that he’d go willingly to hell and back, if Sanji’s life was on the line.

He doesn’t dwell on it too much.

Instead, he pushes himself up, and sprints back to the Sunny.

As he approaches, Usopp sticks his head out of the crow’s nest, where he’d been left to guard the ship while the crew quickly explored the island.

“Back already, Zoro?” Usopp questions. “You didn’t get lost, did you? The town’s that way-“

“No, I didn’t! Sanji’s in trouble!” Zoro barks, interrupting Usopp halfway.

Usopp visibly pales, and Zoro can see his knees knocking together from all the way down on the ground.

“Tr-tr-trouble? W-what do you m-m-mean?” Usopp stutters between chattering teeth.

Zoro rolls his eyes impatiently.

“I _mean_ ,” he clarifies, “That he’s been captured by marines, who’re probably keeping him in the marine base on this island before they take him to Impel Down.”

At the sound of the words _marines_ and _Impel Down_ , Usopp lets out an undignified squeak.

“I’m s-sorry, Z-Zoro,” He whimpers, “B-but I appear to have c-c-come d-down with the ‘c-can’t accompany you to d-dangerous p-places disease’! It’s f-fatal, you k-know!”

Zoro huffs, before turning back around and preparing to jump back off the ship.

“Idiot. I don’t need you to come – you just need to tell the others what’s happened when they get back, so that they can prepare a strategy to rescue Sanji.” Zoro leaps onto the dock. “That is, if I’m not back with him by then.”

With one look back at Usopp, he starts sprinting away, ignoring Usopp’s protests of taking on such a dangerous mission by himself.

He can’t afford to wait for the others to come back before taking action.

Who knows what may be going wrong at the marine base in the meantime?

Who knows how Sanji may be faring by himself?

 

xxx

 

Zoro finds his way to the marine base eventually.

By that time, he’s incredibly pissed off because _dammit_ , why do the roads keep on moving around?! He impatiently hides in some bushes while he scouts the area.

The front of the establishment is guarded by about a dozen marines holding an assortment of swords, looking alert and very very nervous.

So they know the Straw Hats are going to prepare a rescue mission, then.

They’re not as stupid as they look.

Zoro moves his attention to the back of the establishment – there appears to be no back door, or at least none that Zoro can see – only cement walls built high to prevent infiltration, with only a gap at the front for the gate, where the marines are currently standing guard.

He’ll have to wing everything once he manages to get inside, because he doesn’t know a thing about the layout of the base. He guesses the temporary prisoners are kept underground or at least on a lower level, though, so he decides that he’ll explore the ground floor and any below it first, before making it up to the first and second levels if he hasn’t found Sanji by then.

The idiot had better be awake by now – Zoro doesn’t particularly fancy having to carry him out.

Although he’s not sure he’d hate it, either…

He snaps himself out of it, and decides to just charge in.

He’s never been known to prepare plans, anyway.

Springing from his crouched position in the undergrowth, he starts sprinting towards the startled marines, swords at the ready.

Ignoring the screams and trembling kneecaps that would put even Usopp to shame, he barrels through the blockade with barely a glance, katana flashing in the sunlight. The marines that don’t take the brunt of a sword to their bodies are pushed aside carelessly, sprawling onto the ground in messy heaps.

As he continues to run forward, he hears a frantic report being announced over Den-Den Mushi to superiors inside the base from somewhere behind him, and curses. He doubles back, before knocking the Den-Den Mushi from a marine’s hand, ignoring startled shouts as he stomps the snail into the ground.

There. It won’t be sending calls anytime soon.

Once he’s satisfied with the flatness of the snail, he sprints into the base, bursting through the front entrance only to find himself faced with an entire troop of marines.

Dammit.

…Oh, well. He’s been looking for a good fight to let out pent-up frustrations, anyway.

He places Wado between his teeth, and grins darkly as he prepares for a full on battle. The marines falter slightly at the feral but deadly expression taking over his face, before charging with swords at the ready.

They’re all either very brave, or very stupid.

Zoro’s leaning towards the latter, because he advances with barely a hitch, swinging his katana with practiced grace and devastating accuracy, hitting his targets exactly where he’d been aiming for every single time.

Marines fall into puddles of their own blood, and Zoro feels a little bit pitiful of them – but he’s not too fussed with the bloodshed, because it’s not his fault they’re all so weak.

Weaklings who dare to take on the strong deserve to suffer for their blunder.

Zoro knows it firsthand – he dared to take on the strongest when he was nowhere near good enough – only he _survived_ Mihawk’s legendary blade, probably unlike the dozens of limp bodies strewn around the room.

He carries on fighting, barely breaking a sweat as he jumps over an approaching hoard, and sends a flying attack at the opposite wall. Taking on the brunt of the attack, the wall crumbles, crushing some screaming marines underneath as it falls.

There’s a long corridor behind it, and Zoro realises that there was a door to reach the new room beforehand, so breaking down the wall wasn’t exactly necessary – but he doesn’t dwell on unimportant details.

He’ll just count it as practice.

He dodges past the few remaining marines, and runs down the hallway.

“Shit-cook!” He hollers.

There’s no response, but Zoro isn’t really expecting one.

This base looks quite big – chances are, Sanji hadn’t even heard him.

Sanji may also still be unconscious, but Zoro doesn’t think too hard on that option. If he’s still down, then he’s obviously seriously hit his head. He’ll need medical attention.

Unless, of course, he’s already dead – but Zoro dismissed that thought immediately as jumping to unreasonable conclusions, and underestimating Sanji’s capabilities.

Stupid swirly-brow may be a pain in the ass, but he’s definitely not weak.

He’s not going to die so easily.

Zoro sheathes his katana, and carries on running. He’s on an unofficial time limit – he wants to grab Sanji, and get out before any seriously strong marines show up – fighting a highly ranked marine is not on his wish list today.

He’s not looking for trouble, but it appears that he’s not going to be allowed to leave before he finds some.

As he turns the next corner, he admits grudgingly to himself that he’s a little… confused about the directional placement of the corridor he’s running down.

…He’s not lost, dammit.

Arriving at an intersection, he looks to the left, and then the right. Which way to go…

To his delight, he sees a group of marines marching hurriedly towards him from the right. They don’t appear to have noticed him yet, so he quickly hides behind a cleaning cart as they rush past, no doubt following orders to do with his infiltration.

Whatever. He couldn’t care less.

He waits until most of them have passed, before reaching out and grabbing the collar of a marine at the back of the pack, and dragging him back into hiding. Clapping a hand over his mouth to prevent a yelp from escaping, he quickly places the sharp edge of his katana at his throat.

An unspoken threat. He presses the sword further, so that it pierces the skin and a small trickle of blood runs down his neck.

The marine stands stock still, and satisfied that he’s not dumb enough to attempt to escape or call out when he’s in such a dangerous position, Zoro releases his hand from his mouth.

“Tell me where Black Leg Sanji is being kept.” He growls, voice indicating that he’s not in the mood for games.

When the marine just continues trembling, Zoro presses the katana further into his neck.

“P-please-“ He’s cut off as Zoro just sinks his sword down further, so that the trickle of blood turns into a steadier stream.

Realising that Zoro’s not going to let him go without the wanted information and that he’s risking his own head, the marine wisely begins talking.

“He’s being kept in the holding cells, waiting to be shipped to Impel Down.” Zoro grunts, indicating that he’s listening. When the marine doesn’t expand further, Zoro presses down harder on the katana as a warning. “A-ah! T-the holding cells are downstairs – follow the corridor to the left until it runs out, and you should see some steps leading down. Follow them, and Black-Leg’s cell is to the right, in a separate room near the end. But there’s heaps of guards, and someone should be in the cell interrogating him now – you won’t get through!”

Zoro frowns. “Leave that to me. Thanks for the help.”

Then he punches the marine in the face, who promptly falls back and passes out cold.

Zoro looks down at him.

“Tch.”

Then, he follows the directions he’d been given – go down the left corridor first, right? Easy.

He holds out both hands, and shapes them so that only the index fingers and thumbs are sticking out.

He turns in the direction of the hand that’s shaped like an ‘L’, and thanks Kuina in his head for teaching him the cheat way of determining left and right.

He makes his way down the hallway, careful of approaching marines, but there don’t seem to be any.

Something about the utter quietness of the place puts Zoro on edge.

They know why he’s here, so shouldn’t there be hoards of marines in the passages between the entrance and the dungeons?

His instincts are screaming ‘trap’, but he has no option but to plough on.

He’ll deal with anything thrown at him when the time comes.

He reaches the end of the hallway, and realises that there indeed is a stairwell – so the marine hadn’t been lying to him after all.

He grins, and leaps down them four steps at a time.

Still no marines.

…So where had the group he’d snatched the marine from been heading off to, then?

He shrugs, and pushes open the door at the bottom of the stairs.

And…wow. Okay.

He knows where all the marines went, now.

The room with the cells is huge – cage after cage line the wall, disappearing far into the distance to the left as well as the right, most of them empty but some filled. He doesn’t recognise any of the prisoners he can see.

That’s not what’s bothering him, though.

Because to the right, where he knows Sanji’s being held, going as far into the distance as the cages do, is row after row after row of marines, holding swords and shotguns alike.

To the left, there’s no guards at all.

…If he didn’t already know in which direction Sanji is being held, he would now.

He sighs, and that seems to break the collective stillness in the room.

As one, the marines yell, and start charging forwards.

Zoro unsheathes his weapons, and prepares for a serious fight.

He’s not going to show it on his face or admit it out loud – _god_ , no – but he is a _tiny_ bit worried about the colossal number of marines standing in his way.

He reminds himself that this is for Sanji.

He can’t let Sanji down.

So, sending a prayer to a god that he doesn’t believe in, Zoro composes himself, and dives into the wave of marines, swords out and head steady.

He’s going to go rescue Sanji, and not even the entire world’s supply of marines is going to stop him.

 

xxx

 

To Zoro’s surprise, it doesn’t take long.

Although there was a large number of marines, none were really skilled and most looked like relatively new recruits – so he took pity on them, and knocked them out instead of going in for the kill in most cases.

Now, he’s standing in front of a door at the end of the row of cells, ignoring the cries for help from the other prisoners.

He doesn’t have time for charity work.

He’s not Luffy, and besides – some of these people might be _actual_ criminals, who murder kittens and throw babies under buses or something.

He shudders at the thought.

He’s not going to release any people like that.

So, he looks back at the door in front of him.

This is it – he’s certain that Sanji’s in a cell behind it.

He shoves open the door.

He’s expecting more marines inside the room, and he’s right.

When the doors swing open, there’s more swords being pointed at his face, but he’s actually quite surprised that there aren’t all that many.

Guess they underestimated him, and thought he’d never make it past all the defences outside.

He smirks, as he dodges some blades, and swings out his own.

As a couple of marines are knocked into a wall, he chances a look around.

Where is he, where is he…

YES. THERE HE IS!

Sanji’s sitting in a cell, wrists locked in seastone cuffs that are attached to the wall by a chain. There’s a line of dried blood trailing from his hairline to his temple, but otherwise there’s no obvious signs of injury. Zoro lets out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding.

Now that he knows that Sanji’s not dead, he takes in the less significant details – Sanji’s expression. He’s openly gaping at Zoro, who smirks back.

Sanji’s expression quickly morphs into a scowl.

Looks like he’s alive and kicking, then.

Zoro has never felt more relieved to see Sanji sneer in his life.

“What are you doing here, asshole?! Where are the others?” Sanji snaps, but Zoro can tell that his irritation isn’t entirely genuine.

Zoro can tell, because he knows Sanji.

He’s known Sanji long enough to notice that despite the cutting tone, there’s a slightly uncertain lilt to his voice, as well as an almost fearful gleam in his eyes.

Zoro realises with a jolt that Sanji’s _worried_.

Zoro would be almost touched, if he wasn’t above all that sentimental bullshit. Pfft. Emotions are for losers.

“The crew’s fine – in fact, they’re probably going to be here soon,” Zoro snarks back, but.

But it’s not just Sanji that Zoro knows well – he knows himself, too.

He’s known himself long enough to notice that the tone of his voice isn’t exactly hostile, either.

“I, in the meantime, am here to save your sorry ass.”

Zoro adds in a smirk for affect.

He’s not entirely sure he manages to pull it off, because his expression even _feels_ all wobbly, so he’s certain it looks even worse.

He’s certain that it looks like a picture of pure relief.

…He’s not _that_ happy that Sanji’s safe, dammit.

(And why is he starting to sound like Chopper??)

Zoro tunes back into the present, just in time to catch a strange look crossing Sanji’s face, but he doesn’t dwell on it – well, he _can’t_ dwell on it, technically, because then he has to re-lift his katana and eliminate the last of the standing marines. It takes all of two seconds; then, Zoro straightens and sheaths his swords.

He looks back at Sanji, but Sanji’s face is schooled back into casual indifference.

“Well…” Zoro starts hesitantly. Then he mentally slaps himself, because _why_ does he have to sound so awkward?! And _why_ is the way Sanji’s staring at him make him feel so exposed? “Uhh… Do you have the keys to your cuffs?”

…Wow. Nice one, Zoro. _Why would he have the key to his own cuffs, you idiot?!_

Zoro mentally slaps himself again.

Sanji open his mouth to speak, when he’s interrupted.

“No, he doesn’t. Because _I_ have the key.”

Which… confuses Zoro a little bit, because he doesn’t remember opening his mouth.

He doesn't remember having the key, either.

At which point he realises that he doesn’t remember opening his mouth or having the key, because he didn’t, and he doesn't.

For the first time since entering the new room, Zoro notices that Sanji’s not alone in his cell.

Tunnel vision or something, probably. (Zoro refuses to think about what having tunnel vision for _Sanji_ , of all people, means for his mental wellbeing. Or lack thereof.)

He doesn’t have long to think about anything, however, because it’s at this moment that he realises who exactly the man in Sanji’s cage is.

Or more precisely, _what_ the man in Sanji’s cage is.

Because sitting no more than half a metre away from Sanji is a marine. By the number of badges adorning his uniform, Zoro guesses that he’s important, and higher up in the ranks than all the other marines that Zoro has fought so far in the day.

Zoro remembers distantly that the marine he’d nicked from the corridors upstairs had warned him about this – about a man currently interrogating the prisoner.

Zoro’s not scared, though – he can easily beat this guy, he’s sure of it. He just needs to find a way into the cage…

He smirks, and reaches for his swords.

“Don’t move!” Comes the yell.

Zoro’s quite surprised to find that there’s no panic in the voice, despite the fact that he’s sure the man has recognised him by now. He looks up in suspicion, hand resting on the hilt of Wado, to find that there’s a matching smirk on the marine’s face.

Zoro’s own smirk falters slightly, because that can’t be right.

That can’t be right, because… _Why isn’t the marine scared for his life?_

Zoro’s careful not to let his confusion show on his face.  “And why,” he drawls, careful to sound uninterested, “would I listen to you?”

The marine lifts up an eyebrow, and his face reads _really? You haven’t noticed?_

At Zoro’s blank expression, the marine shakes his head, and makes an exaggerated tsking sound. He lifts up a hand, deliberately slowly as if Zoro’s stupid.

“Because, Roronoa Zoro,” he purrs, dark eyes glinting, “I have this.”

Zoro looks at his hand, and he feels his heart skip a beat.

Because the man… The man’s holding a knife.

And he’s moving it.

Slowly, he moves it closer and closer towards Sanji, and Zoro follows the movement with his eyes until the knife’s point is pressed against Sanji’s throat.

“And, Roronoa,” a feral grin morphs his features into something dark and ugly. “I’m not afraid to use it.”

He presses the knife down a little, just so that a small bead of blood wells up at Sanji’s neck.

Zoro feels sick.

He watches as the drop of Sanji’s blood starts rolling slowly down his neck, disappearing under the collar of his shirt, before he snaps his eyes away and to Sanji’s face.

He’s expecting to see anger, probably – in Sanji’s clenched teeth and blazing eyes at being held hostage; he’s expecting indifference, maybe – in the carefully collected way that Sanji schools his features when he doesn’t want to appear weak; he’s expecting a hint of _fear_ , even – in the way Sanji may have realised that he’s defenceless against an enemy holding a sharp blade.

What Zoro doesn’t expect to see is a smirk that rivals the one on the marine’s face, accompanied by a raised eyebrow that just screams smugness.

Zoro just stares, feeling dazed and more than a little out of the loop.

Sanji gives him a pointed look, to which Zoro just scrunches his brow.

Rolling his eyes, Sanji starts to lean forwards.

Zoro jolts in shock, because what is that idiot _doing_?! He’s going to get himself _killed_!

He’s just about to start really panicking, as he watches more beads of blood trickle down Sanji’s neck, when something weird happens.

The marine hisses, and moves his knife back a bit.

“What are you doing?! I _will_ kill you, you know!”

And then suddenly, Zoro understands.

He understands why Sanji looked so confident just before – what Sanji was trying to tell him.

He grins, giving Sanji what he hopes is a grateful look.

Sanji grins back, and sends him a thumbs up.

Zoro turns his attention back to the marine.

“No, you won’t,” Zoro states with finality, unsheathing his swords in one swift, rehearsed movement. The marine doesn’t move to stab Sanji through the neck, instead starting to pale alarmingly fast, and Zoro realises that they were right. “Because _you_ ,” he emphasises with a step towards the cell, “can’t _afford_ to kill him.”

There’s panic starting to swell in the marine’s eyes, now, and Zoro feels powerful. He keeps walking towards the cell until he’s standing right in front of it.

“You can’t kill him,” he elaborates, preparing to swing his katana, “because then there’s nothing preventing _me_ ,” he brings his arm back, “from killing _you_.”

The marine looks about two seconds away from passing out, and Zoro derives a sick pleasure from watching him squirm.

Zoro’s going to kill him.

He messed with the wrong people, and Zoro doesn’t have _any_ sympathies towards those who threaten to hurt his friends.

“W-wait!”

Zoro doesn’t know why he does it – why he suddenly stops himself from cutting open the cage and painfully murdering the man, but he thinks it’s got something to do with the way the knife suddenly moves a foot downwards, so it’s pressed against Sanji’s lower chest, instead.

“If you don’t surrender, I’ll stab him! Then he’ll bleed out before you get your hands on a doctor!”

Zoro stiffens again, and quickly looks at Sanji.

Sanji’s already gazing back, eyes steady as he shrugs. When Zoro still doesn’t look away, he rolls his eyes and lifts a corner of his lips in a reassuring smile.

Zoro takes a second to admire him – admire a Sanji that’s not scowling at him, for once. A Sanji that’s smiling at him – and not in the polite way he has been for the past few weeks, either, but-

But… In a way that’s open, and friendly – a smile that smooths out his features, and makes him look so, _so_ much younger.

It’s not a big smile – just a simple lift of the lips and crinkle of the eyes – and it’s not a smile that he directs at the girls, either, no. It just… It’s a smile that makes him look sincerely _happy_.

Zoro’s not sure that he’s ever seen this smile before.

He wonders what that means – whether Sanji’s been unhappy for longer than he’s let on.

Zoro hopes not – he thinks that Sanji should smile like that more – smile like that all the time.

His thoughts are interrupted.

“I’m _fine_ , stupid.” Sanji makes the insult sound almost like an endearment. “A stab wound won’t kill me. You _know_ that. You trust me, right?”

Zoro does.

So he turns back to the marine, who’s properly shaking now.

Zoro lifts up his sword.

“N-no!” The marine grapples around frantically, before seeming to grab onto Sanji’s wrist in a moment of sheer panic. “I’ll! I’ll cut off his fingers!!”

It’s just a last ditch effort at saving his own life, Zoro knows.

Zoro _knows_.

But it’s still enough to stop Zoro cold.

He snaps his head to look at Sanji, and he sees the horror dawning in the blue eyes staring back at him, no trace of the smile from before. He sees the battle of emotion fighting it out on his face, before Sanji suddenly seems to settle, and then his face is the portrayal of calm.

Too calm.

“It’s fine,” Sanji whispers. “Just do it.”

But it’s not fine.

Zoro can tell it’s not fine.

Zoro _knows_ it’s not fine.

He’s not an idiot – he can _see_ the fear swimming behind Sanji’s blue eyes – he can _hear_ the way Sanji’s breathing is picking up speed.

And what about his cooking?!

Zoro knows how much Sanji treasures his hands – he values them to the point of refusing to fight with them, in case they get damaged. As far as Zoro knows, Sanji doesn’t have a single scar on his hands.

Sanji’s always said that he needs his hands to cook; and Zoro may not always show it, but he _does_ listen carefully to the things his nakama have to say, and he remembers things – especially those that are important.

Sanji won’t be able to cook at _half_ the skill level he can now with multiple fingers missing.

The fact that Sanji’s acting indifferent about it now hits Zoro harder than he’d like to admit. Because it shows, doesn’t it?

It shows that Sanji either doesn’t believe Zoro’s been paying enough attention to him to know about how much he values his hands, or that he knows, but doesn’t care.

Both options make bile rise at the back of Zoro’s throat.

The marine seems to have picked up in the mood change, too, because he perks up considerably. His grip tightens on Sanji’s wrist, and he places the sharp edge of the knife along his fingers.

“If you don’t drop your swords and surrender, I’ll cut his fingers off.” His expression is stony cold.

Zoro tightens his grip on his swords, before turning his eyes back to Sanji.

Sanji’s not looking at him, now – he’s got his eyes lowered to the floor, and Zoro can see the way his free hand is gripping tightly to his pants. His knuckles are white, and now that Zoro’s started picking up on the details, he sees the trembling – the way Sanji’s entire body is slightly shaking under his clothes. His breaths are escaping in shallow puffs, and Zoro…

Zoro thinks of Sanji falling asleep in the galley, while he’s working on personalised recipes for the crew. He thinks of the care and attention Sanji pays them all – the way he picks up on critique for his food, and always strives to make his dishes better. He thinks of the way Sanji goes on and on and on about the All Blue – his and his old man’s dream. He thinks of why Sanji wants to find it – because then he can cook with all the seafood in the world at one place.

He thinks of Sanji not being able to do any of that anymore – of Sanji losing all of it, with the loss of his fingers.

Then he thinks of Sanji giving it all up, because he thinks Zoro wouldn’t care.

And Zoro can’t do it - doesn’t think he ever could.

So he does the only alternative thing he can think of.

He drops his swords.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos not mandatory, but much, MUCH appreciated!
> 
> Also I'd love if you'd check out my main [Tumblr](https://hazzilyeverafter.tumblr.com/), and my side blog for [One Piece](https://hazzilyeverafter-onepiece.tumblr.com/)!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoro and Sanji sit down and talk it out.
> 
> It’s a civilised adult conversation.
> 
> Or, at least, it's as civilised as the two of them can get…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter, everybody!
> 
> I know this has been a long time coming and it's been a small while since I last updated, so I apologise, but I've been incredibly busy. I'll try to update more frequently for you guys.
> 
> Enjoyyy

Zoro gets thrown into the same cell as Sanji.

Which, admittedly, he’s incredibly grateful for – although he doesn’t show it, choosing to snarl threateningly at that good-for-nothing, cheating, dirty marine who’s responsible for the entire mess, instead.

Zoro’s never been someone who craves bloodlust, but the idea of _this_ man’s blood pooling around his cold, limp body suddenly sounds like a great sight to behold.

When he gets out, he’s definitely going to pound his ugly head in.

In the meantime, however, Zoro just grudgingly settles back into the wall, and watches as the marine smugly locks the cell, and walks away with the key purposefully swinging around his fingers. His other hand holds Zoro’s prized katana.

Zoro sticks his middle finger up at his retreating back.

When the man leaves the room, no doubt to gloat about his capture of the legendary “Pirate-Hunter Roronoa Zoro”, Zoro turns his eyes away from the door and to his cellmate, instead.

Sanji’s being strangely quiet, his head tilted slightly away from Zoro, so all he can see is the silhouette of Sanji’s face in the dark corner of the room.

There’s a tense silence as Zoro waits for Sanji to say something. He knows that Sanji will have questions to ask, and Zoro is prepared to answer them as honestly as possible, because he knows that their relationship still needs mending.

It was never quite whole, even at it’s best.

They need to talk it out.

_Dammit._

Zoro knows that they really do need to sit down and have an adult conversation, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still have one or two issues in regards to his ability to express his thoughts through words.

And by one or two issues, he means approximately all the issues in the world.

…He’s not the most articulate man, okay?

It doesn’t look like Sanji’s going to speak first, so Zoro does, instead.

Might as well start at the beginning.

“Cook.” Sanji hums slightly to show that he’s listening. “Are you still mad at me?”

There’s no hesitation when Sanji immediately answers. “No.” He hesitates a little before speaking again, though. “Are you – are you going to rub it in?”

Zoro frowns, and shuffles a little closer – the marine was too stupid to chain his handcuffs to the wall. He only stops moving when he’s only a few centimetres away from Sanji. “No.”

Sanji seems to unwind, then, even though Zoro hadn’t noticed that he was wound up in the first place. He finally tilts his head enough for Zoro to see his face, and there’s a crinkle of confusion between his brows. “Why not?” He frowns, and Zoro feels like the expression isn’t directed at him, for once. It feels like Sanji’s directing it at _himself_ , and Zoro wonders why that doesn’t seem to be any better. “I was captured by a woman, after all.” Sanji tightens his hands into fists. “She didn’t care that I didn’t fight back.”

Zoro doesn’t like how self-deprecating Sanji sounds, so he nudges Sanji with his shoulder. At his hiss of pain at the aggravated bullet wound, Zoro hastily apologises. “Sorry.”

Sanji’s eyes flicker to his briefly, holding his gaze for a split second as if searching for something, before moving away.

Zoro hopes that he found whatever he was looking for.

“S’alright.”

Even with Sanji’s eyes trained on the floor, Zoro keeps his eyes on Sanji. “I think I understand, now.” When Sanji’s gaze travels back to Zoro’s face, he explains himself. “You had a right to be mad at me. It’s not really my business where you decide for your morals to stand, but I thought it was.” Then, in a moment of madness, he adds on, “Sorry about that.”

Sanji looks at him as if he’s grown a second head, but not in a bad way. If that makes sense.

Zoro doesn’t think that it does.

Maybe _he’s_ the one who bumped him head. …He’s certainly done enough strange things to justify that hypothesis.

“It’s okay,” Comes Sanji’s delayed response. “I think you were just looking out for me.” The crazy must be contagious, because Sanji seems to have caught it as well. “Thanks, I guess.”

Since they’re both acting weird, Zoro decides that screw it all, he may as well continue the trend.

“How’s your head? Does it feel concussed?”

Sanji ponders it for a second, before shrugging his good shoulder. “I don’t think so. It pounds a little, but if it _is_ damaged, it’s nothing major. Nothing to worry about.” He seems to sense that the way they’re acting is very unlike them, so he tries to lighten the mood. “I can still only see one of you, so it’s definitely a good thing.”

Zoro tries to suppress his startled snort, before nudging his foot lightly against Sanji’s. “Hey, that’s not nice of you.”

Sanji shrugs, a small grin pulling at his lips. “Who cares?” He turns his head fully towards Zoro. “I’m _never_ nice to you.”

Zoro pretends to think this through.

“True,” he finally concedes.

They fall into a relaxed silence, after that, and Zoro feels peaceful. More peaceful than he has in a long time, even though he’s with Sanji. He still feels slightly empty without his three swords strapped to his waist, but he’s strangely not too bothered.

He doesn’t let himself dwell on the details.

“Hey.” Zoro turns to look at Sanji, who’s already gazing steadily back. He doesn’t know why he feels himself turning pink at the thought of Sanji observing him without him noticing, but he carries on talking, hoping that Sanji doesn’t read into it. “Do you think we should start planning our escape?”

If Sanji does notice his blush, he doesn’t mention it. “I dunno. Are Luffy and the others coming?”

Zoro nods. “Yeah. They should be here by tomorrow, tops.”

Sanji shrugs, leaning further back into the wall. “Then we probably shouldn’t bother. It’ll be easier for them to barge in and help us out, than for us to study this base and rescue ourselves.”

Zoro can see the logic in his argument. “True. Guess we’ll just wait it out, I suppose.”

Sanji nods in agreement. “Yeah.”

He slouches even further back into the wall, and his eyelids start to droop. “I think I’ll sleep, in the meantime.” He phrases it as a statement, but Zoro notices the way that Sanji watches him for a reaction before closing his eyes. As if he’s asking whether Zoro will be okay with being in his own company for a little while.

“Sure.” Zoro waits for Sanji to close his eyes before studying his face, and when he does, he immediately notices that Sanji looks bone-tired. There’s the beginnings of dark circles surrounding his eyes, and he’s paled considerably again. The chill of the resemblance between Sanji now and the way he looked during their first massive fight makes Zoro shudder, but he’s not too worried at the moment.

Sanji’s only tired this time because he’s still suffering from an injury, and has just fought in a battle before being knocked out, as well as probably emotionally draining himself by worrying about the others. This time, it’s a _healthy_ tired. This time, it _is_ that simple – Sanji can just sleep it off.

Unlike last time.

“I can feel you staring at me, you know.”

Zoro startles, and quickly whips his gaze away from Sanji’s face. He can feel the heat rushing to his cheeks, and thanks his lucky stars that Sanji still has his eyes shut. “I was NOT staring at you!” He amends quickly.

He’s probably largely unsuccessful, because Sanji just lets out a breezy chuckle and shifts his position against the wall.

Zoro huffs grouchily, and scowls to himself. _Why did he get himself caught? No – more importantly, why was he staring at the cook for so long in the first place?!_

He mentally slaps himself to heighten his alertness, and resolves to resist looking at Sanji for the next few minutes.

…It turns out, his resolve lasts all of two seconds. He should be ashamed, honestly.

Apparently, his mental strength of steel decided that it doesn’t apply to stupid curly cooks, as he can’t help but look back at Sanji when he hears him clear his throat. Sanji’s opened one eye, which is steadily resting its gaze on Zoro.

Upon noticing that he has Zoro’s attention, Sanji lets a small smile grace his features. It’s the same gentle smile as the one from before, when the marine had threatened to stab him – sincere, and radiating an honest wave of happiness.

It’s _beautiful._

Zoro may as well just admit it, because it’s _true_ – the smile _is_ beautiful, and Zoro wants to see it again and again and again – wants to see it forever, and then some more.

He’s going _soft_.

“Thanks, Zoro. Really.” It’s whispered, holding a sweet sort of gratitude as it breezes past Sanji’s lips, and never changing his smile in the slightest.

It’s also the first time ever that Zoro can remember Sanji using his real name, and the moment feels electric. They hold each other’s eyes, blue and gold contrasting peacefully as Zoro feels a similar smile of his own spreading across his features.

He doesn’t really know what’s happening, but he finds that he likes this new mutual understanding that the two of them have stumbled upon – that they never would have imagined was possible a mere month ago.

“Thank you for what you did.” Sanji says, and it sounds honest.

Zoro knows that he’s talking about his hands – talking about the reason why Zoro’s sitting here in the cage in the first place. Sanji’s still whispering, so Zoro whispers right back.

“Of course,” Zoro insists. “It was the only option.”

If Sanji did it, Zoro doesn’t see why he can’t.

“ _Sanji._ ” He sounds almost breathless, but he finds that he doesn’t really care. This is important. It's important that Sanji understands. “ _Of course_.”

Zoro hopes that he sounds as honest as Sanji did.

The corners of Sanji’s mouth twitch upwards slightly, and his shoulders seem to sag, as if he’s finally lifted a weight off his chest.

Maybe he has.

Sanji tucks his chin into his neck, smile still in place. Zoro wants to call it his ‘Zoro smile’, but he thinks that maybe that might be going a little overboard.

He doesn’t know why he’s being such an idiot around Sanji lately, but maybe that’s always been the case. Maybe Zoro has _always_ been a bit hopeless around Sanji.

He wonders if he really cares. He doesn’t think he does.

He focusses his attention back on Sanji’s face, and at that moment, the laugh lines around Sanji’s eyes look permanent.

Zoro hopes they are.

He realises that his own smile is still in place, but he doesn’t make a move to drop it. He doesn’t think he wants to. Sanji continues to study him, and Zoro looks right back. Then suddenly, Sanji’s leaning closer, and for a crazy moment, Zoro thinks that he’s going to kiss him. He thinks that maybe that’s okay.

Maybe he’ll _let him_.

But then, Sanji’s leaning past his face, and Zoro blinks to himself in confusion before he realises what Sanji’s doing. He’s settling his head on Zoro’s chest, rearranging his body so that he’s resting comfortably against Zoro.

He wants to say that he’s a tiny bit annoyed that Sanji’s using him as a pillow, but then he’d be lying. And Zoro may be a lot of things, but he’s definitely not Usopp.

Sanji’s looking up at him, and his raised eyebrow and slight smirk seem to say _can I sleep here, marimo? You’re more comfortable than the wall_. Zoro doesn’t want to say no, so he shrugs in reply instead.

It’s the closest he can get himself to saying yes.

Sanji seems to take that as a confirmation, anyway, so he shuffles around until Zoro’s cuffed arms are draped around him.

Zoro silently thanks the marine for cuffing his arms at the front. Small miracles, and all that.

He gives Sanji’s hair a small tug, and pretends to miss the way Sanji’s eyelids flutter at the motion. “Sleep.”

Sanji does. He closes his eyes, and dozes off almost in an instant.

Zoro doesn’t read into it.

Instead, he squeezes Sanji tighter in his arms, and after making sure he looks comfortable, closes his own eyes. He can feel the rise and fall of Sanji’s chest; can hear Sanji’s even breaths as they escape his mouth, and it lulls him to sleep.

The last thought on his mind before he dozes off is Sanji.

While he sleeps, he dreams of blue eyes and cigarette smoke.

 

xxx

 

Zoro wakes up to the sound of the opposite wall caving in.

All he can hear is the panicked yells and frantic footsteps of the marines inside the base; of rushed orders being transmitted through Den Den Mushi about a man who set their World Government flag on fire, of hands growing from the floor, of a lady who looted their cash stores.

Zoro can hear a lot.

But all Zoro knows is that his nakama are here, and that Sanji’s no longer in his arms.

He tries to pretend that his arms don’t feel a little empty without him.

He tries – but he’s not entirely sure he succeeds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> My main [Tumblr](https://hazzilyeverafter.tumblr.com/), and my side blog for [One Piece](https://hazzilyeverafter-onepiece.tumblr.com/).


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Straw Hats are here to save them.
> 
> But even after they escape, Zoro doesn’t feel free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8 is finally here.
> 
> I would just like to thank everyone for being so patient, because I know that it's been a good while since my last update. Hopefully this makes up for it, though?

Luffy finds them soon after.

He comes flying in through the hole that was once a wall, arms flailing in all their rubber glory, shrinking back to normal length with a snap as he lands gracelessly on the floor. He takes a moment to untangle himself, before standing and grinning once he spots the two men in the cell.

“NAAAAAAAAAAMIIIIIII,” he screams, “I FOUND THEEEMMMMMM!!!!!”

There’s the distinct sound of crackling electricity, followed by pained wails and the tinkling sound of coins being gleefully stashed in an already bulging sack. “Are they still in their cell?” Comes Nami’s call from somewhere on the above floor.

Luffy turns back around to face Sanji and Zoro, who’re sitting at opposite ends of the cage. He blinks once, twice, before sticking a finger up his nose and twisting. “YES!!”

Zoro hears a pained noise of disgust escape Sanji, but he doesn’t look over. If Sanji wants to ignore the events of last night, then he will, too. Simple. He’s tired of all the recent bullshit, anyway.

“THEN QUIT STANDING THERE WITH YOUR FINGER UP YOUR NOSE AND GET THEM OUT, YOU IDIOT!!”

“HAIIIIIIII!!” Luffy’s stray finger pops out of his nose, and he quickly stretches his arm up onto the floor above (there’s a gaping hole between the two floors, too), before flying up and disappearing out of sight. He’s probably leaving to find the keys to their cell and cuffs.

Zoro feels his eyebrows rising to his hairline. He’s fairly sure that Nami can’t see them from where she’s standing, so he has to say that he’s impressed with the accuracy of her assumption. She knows their captain well.

Apparently he’s not the only one who’s impressed, because he can hear Sanji’s delighted squeal from across the cell. Zoro’s sure that he’s wiggling out the best Noodle Dance he can in his cuffed position on the floor. He refuses to look over and confirm this for himself.

“Ahh, my beautiful Nami-swannnnn!!~” Comes the anticipated swoon. “Your outer elegance and refined beauty is evenly matched with the intimidatingly accurate soul that lives within!! Marry me!! I will shower you with the love and affection you deserve, and although forever is a long time, it’s a long time that I am willing to spend with you, because together we can create miracles. Whenever I look at your perfect being I see life and love and--”

And Zoro has heard more than enough. Never let it be said that Sanji isn’t a hopeless romantic.

“Shut _up_ , cook!”

Surprisingly, it seems to do the trick.

Sanji’s mouth closes with a click, and the remainder of his sentence fizzles out into silence.

There’s no snarky comeback, and as far as Zoro can see from the corner of his eye (because he will _not_ be the first to look over, dammit), Sanji isn’t straining at his shackles in an honest attempt to throttle him for interrupting his troubling verbal vomit.

Zoro wants a response. He wants to say it’s because riling up the cook is one of his favourite pastimes, but that wouldn’t be the entire truth. He wants a response, because he’s sick of feeling like Sanji doesn’t give him the same time of day as the others (especially Nami and Robin who couldn’t care less about attracting his constant attention), because he wants the cook to at least register his existence after the events of the previous night, and maybe primarily, because he’s just a little bit hurt.

He’s just a little bit hurt that apparently what Zoro valued as a huge change in their relationship meant less than nothing to Sanji.

He’ll never let anyone know that Sanji’s hit close to home, though, because he’s always been taught to hide his weaknesses. Because weaknesses lead to failure, and he has too many dreams and too much life to fail.

So with Sanji, he acts out in the only way he knows how – by hiding himself behind snide remarks and quick insults, in the hope that Sanji never makes it into his heart, because out of everyone in the world, he thinks that Sanji could take up the most room and do the most damage.

It’s a defence mechanism, he’s pretty sure, but nobody else needs to know. Especially not Sanji – the cook already has enough of Zoro to maybe break him a little, if he wanted to. And all Zoro’s ever known with Sanji is that he’s out to break him, both mentally and physically, whether he means to or not. The past few weeks have certainly given him enough emotional trauma to last a lifetime.

Sanji is a tsunami of energy and strength and light, and Zoro is stuck in his path with nothing but a rowboat and half an oar.

He’s never going to make it out alive.

That doesn’t stop him from trying, though, because everyone knows that Zoro never gives up. So he speaks, looking to lash out and _hurt_ , so Sanji can’t see past his thinly veiled disguise and to who he is inside, where Zoro has the same insecurities as everybody else. Where he’s the one who’s hurting.

“Nami will never love you, you know.”

He watches out of the corner of his eye for Sanji’s reaction. He expects denial. Outrage. Even tears.

What he doesn’t expect is acceptance, which is exactly what he gets.

Sanji just chuckles, bitter and despondent, and Zoro doesn’t like it at all. “Yeah. I know.”

“So why do you bother declaring your love, then?” Zoro frowns, closing his eyes and resting his head back against the wall. He feels worn down to the bone, weighed down from within, and he doesn’t know why. He wonders if this is what Sanji had felt like. “Why do you do it over and over and over again, when you know that every time will end in rejection?”

Sanji is quiet for a moment, and then he shrugs half-heartedly. “Because I have no one else to say it to,” he says simply, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on top, “and sometimes it gets lonely, so I like to pretend.” He tilts his head, so that he’s more or less looking at Zoro. “It’s not perfect. I know it’s not. But until I find something real, it’ll have to do.”

Zoro stays silent, and lets the words sink in. They make sense, and Sanji’s explanation is more thoughtful than Zoro had initially imagined it to be. In the darkness behind his eyelids, the words are melancholy; tinged with sadness, but brimming with promise. Zoro opens his eyes, and finally looks at him.

Sanji’s face is slightly panicked, as if he’s regretting saying so much. He probably misunderstood Zoro’s silence, too.

“You know what, forget I said anything, it doesn’t matter--” his voice is rushed and self-deprecating, eyes downcast, and he tries for a breezy chuckle that ends up sounding way too forced. “I don’t know why I thought you of all people would understand, anyway.” His tone is a little bitter and a lot defensive.

Zoro’s shuffling closer, explanation ready on his lips, when Luffy flies back into the room.

“GUYSSS!! I FOUND THE KEYSSSSSS!!”

Zoro immediately flinches away from Sanji, leaning back against the wall as his heart thumps loudly in his chest, as if he’d been caught in the act.

The act of doing what, he’s not sure.

By the time he spaces back into the present, Luffy’s throwing a set of keys to him, which he catches and begins to unlock his cuffs with. Once Luffy sees that he has it all under control, he grins, cheeks pushing his eyes into crescents before he flicks them a thumbs up and disappears to kick some more marine ass.

Once his own cuffs are off, Zoro moves towards Sanji, who is decidedly avoiding his gaze and altogether studying the grimy floor with way too much interest.

He starts speaking again as he’s unlocking Sanji’s cuffs. “You know, I--”

He’s promptly shut down as Sanji, with eyes still trained on the ground, presses his lips tightly together to form a thin line and shakes his head.

Zoro would normally push it, but something in his gut tells him not to this time, so he doesn’t. His instincts have kept him alive until now, so he doesn’t question them.

“Later, then.”

Sanji doesn’t reply, so Zoro takes it as a yes. They’ll discuss it later. Satisfied for now, Zoro finally breaks Sanji of his chains and moves towards the door. Sanji picks himself off the floor and follows behind him silently.

The cell door unlocks with an all-too-satisfying _snick_ , and Zoro eagerly flings it open. He turns towards Sanji. “You okay to fight?”

The cook brushes past him, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it in one smooth move. “Always.”

He’s still not looking at Zoro. But he doesn’t push it, because they can always talk later, and at the moment his number one priority is finding his swords. This is followed closely by his second priority: to find and make sure a certain marine is messed up _good_ for daring to cross him and his nakama.

Sanji seems to be on the same wavelength as Zoro in regards to his second point, as he’s already bashed in the door and has marched halfway through the next room. The criminals in their cells cower as he walks by.

 _Rightly so_ , Zoro finds himself thinking. They should _all_ fear the wrath of a pissed off Straw Hat.

He grins, uncontained and wild, but mostly free. Definitely proud.

He runs after Sanji, then past him, and Sanji lets him. Until he runs the wrong way, that is, and when that happens Sanji whips out an arm to snag the back of his shirt, letting go again when Zoro corrects himself. Sanji immediately tucks both hands back into his pockets, and Zoro can’t help but read it as a guarded move; as if Zoro could possibly hurt him if he doesn’t keep his distance.

Again, he doesn’t push it; doesn’t point it out or question Sanji. He maybe should, though, but he can’t find the heart to start another fight he has no idea how to end.

Who knows what the casualties may be, this time.

Who knows whether the both of them could recover. Whether Zoro could.

So he doesn’t say anything, and instead runs further ahead, trampling down the door to every room he passes in search of his katana.

He can’t find them anywhere.

What he does find, though, is a familiar marine cowering under a desk in a well-furnished office that is probably his own.

Zoro can’t wait to see how the row upon rows of trophies and medals lining the walls can save this coward.

Isn’t life bittersweet.

Before he car reach the man, he’s scrambling out from under the table, stuttering and quaking, badges pinned to his uniform jingling together a melody to Zoro’s ears as he shakes.

He’s clutching Zoro’s swords.

He’s. Clutching. Zoro’s. SWORDS!!

Any hope of leaving unscathed has officially escaped this marine’s realm of possibility.

Zoro is going to mess this fucker up!

He lunges forward, and in his haste to back up, the marine crashes into a cabinet of his trophies, causing glass to shatter everywhere and shards to nip his face and neck as they shower to the floor.

He lets out an undignified yelp, eyes pleading, and Zoro holds no sympathy for men who hide behind their self-acclaimed awards when they’ve accomplished nothing but being a coward, hosting pity parties as disgusting as their potbellies for a chance at safety and with morals as non-existent as their courage.

This man fits the mould perfectly, and Zoro has had enough of watching this pathetic mess whimpering for his life. There’s no cage between them this time, and the man has no hostage. Finally, Zoro can see the terrified expression that he should have seen during their first encounter, and it gives him a sick sort of satisfaction.

He has a protective streak a mile wide when it comes to his nakama, and this man will pay.

“Please! Please,” the marine pleads, holding a trembling hand out as if it’s enough to stop Zoro in his tracks. “I’ll give you your swords back, if you promise to leave me alone! You pirates are noble fighters, right? You don’t break promises.”

Zoro stretches casually, tilting his head until he hears his neck crick and smirking when he sees the marine flinch. He’s probably imagining the sound of his own neck snapping, and who knows, maybe Zoro will. He’s in no rush, after all. Some predators like to play with their food.

“Firstly,” he begins, cracking his knuckles one by one if only to see the man pale further, “what makes you think I’ll play noble with you, when I clearly remember you fighting dirty with me _just yesterday?_ ”

The marine opens his mouth, but Zoro ignores him and continues talking.

“Secondly,” he tilts his head, pretending to think, “and perhaps most importantly,” he takes a step forward and clenches his jaw, “ _what makes you think that I need you to hand my swords back to me willingly, when I could just take them forcefully AND bash your head in at the same time?!_ ”

He’s about half a metre away from the coward, now.

And this is when he almost has his head cut off.

He’s not Roronoa Zoro if he doesn’t have lightning quick reflexes, though, so he ducks to the side just in time to feel Wado’s blade skim past his ear.

Okay, now he’s not just angry. He’s absolutely _livid_.

 _Nobody_ touches his swords without permission – everybody who doesn’t have a _death wish_ knows that, and this _fucker_ just _unsheathed_ and _used_ his _most precious katana_ on _him_?!

This coward is going _down_ , and not even God himself can save him.

The marine is still shaking, but there’s a glimmer of hope forming in his beady eyes, as if he thinks that he stands a chance of beating Zoro now that he realises he has three extremely deadly weapons at his disposal.

Pity he obviously doesn’t know how to use them, and this just makes Zoro angrier, because now his katana are being neglected by an idiot who thinks that holding one sword in both hands will get him anywhere close to victory.

“I am going to say this _once_ ,” he seethes, tone alone dark and powerful enough to swallow the stars and start world wars. “And if you value your life, you will listen to me.” He stares the man straight in the eye, and hopes that he sees all the pain Zoro promises to dish out if he disobeys – that Zoro feels already pumping through his veins. “Put away my katana, and hand them over.”

He gives it one second.

Two seconds.

Three.

Then he’s swinging his fist, waiting for the satisfying _crunch_ of a broken face, but before he makes contact the marine is already flying. His body hits another display cabinet with a force that pushes the breath out of his lungs, collapsing onto the floor as his trophies shatter on the ground as they fall.

Zoro whips his head around, tensed and ready to fight because _why did he not notice that someone was coming_ , but relaxes immediately when he’s met with Sanji, landing gracefully from his attack as his dress shoes meet the hardwood floor with two light _clicks_.

His hair is shadowing the majority of his face, and all Zoro can see is the tight line that his mouth forms. There’s a cigarette between the fingers dangling by his side, trailing smoke, and his other hand is in his pocket. One of his feet isn’t resting fully on the floor, instead poised ready to strike again, and Zoro watches as Sanji opens his mouth just enough to let a stream of smoke escape.

Even the wispy tendrils look deadly.

His body is tensed, ready, and the black suit he’s wearing is sharp, emphasising the cut of his shoulders and angle of his waist; legs lean and never-ending, but still powerful enough to wreak havoc and end lives.

He’s strong and beautiful all at once, even with the blood streaking his blonde hair red and the dirt staining his white shirt brown, and Zoro is captivated by his elegance.

Sanji tilts his head so that his face is finally showing, and his expression is nothing but cold, but there’s a fire blazing in his eyes that looks like it will never burn out. He looks like power personified, but also like a blizzard of fire; a walking contradiction, intense and searing and chilling at the same time, but lethal all the same.

It’s not directed at Zoro.

He speaks, and his voice smoulders with anticipation but cuts like ice. “You heard him. If you value your life,” he inhales a breath of his cigarette and exhales like it’s a secret, “you’ll give them back. Now.”

The marine wobbles to his feet, leaning on the nearest intact shelf for support, and just clutches the three katana tighter. “They call me the bravest around here, you know,” he manages to choke out. His teeth are chattering. “I’m not scared of you.”

Zoro doesn’t even have time to call the coward out on his bullshit, before Sanji’s flying.

His kick connects with the top of the man’s head, and the sound of the marine landing face-first on the floor with the force of Sanji’s almost limitless power is almost enough to make Zoro wince.

He doesn’t, though.

Because although Zoro doesn’t make it a habit to wish pain on anyone, in his opinion, this bastard probably deserves it.

He doesn’t feel a need to join the fight yet, because watching the whirlwind that is Sanji enraged, Zoro thinks that he’s handling the fight just fine on his own. He’s also maybe a little enchanted by the lithe, graceful movements of Sanji’s attacks, because he’s never had the opportunity to truly watch and admire before.

By now, the marine is lying stomach-first on the ground, and Sanji’s booting him around like a limp ragdoll. He’s crying, bruised and bloody but still clutching desperately at Zoro’s swords, and Zoro starts to feel kind of bad.

When Sanji grinds the heel of his shoe into the man’s hand not clutching the weapons, and Zoro hears the sound of breaking bones followed by screams and pleas as the man curls in on himself, Zoro decides to step in.

“Sanji,” he starts, “I think that’s probably enough.”

The cook doesn’t appear to have heard him over the sobs; or if he has, he doesn’t listen.

When there’s no response, Zoro strides over to Sanji, wrapping his arms tightly around his torso and gently but firmly pulling him back. Sanji struggles against his hold, twisting as he tries to continue to beat the man senseless.

“Sanji,” Zoro whispers in his ear as the cook continues to wriggle. “ _Sanji_. It’s okay. Let him be.”

He tightens his hold against the cook, and finally, Sanji seems to register his words. He deflates, almost, going limp in Zoro’s arms as he seems to snap out of his angry haze.

“Okay,” he whispers back. “Okay.”

He seems troubled, confused, maybe even slightly ashamed as he avoids looking at Zoro. Then he straightens, and Zoro lets him go.

Sanji walks over to the man, and Zoro is ready to leap in if Sanji goes off again. But he doesn’t.

He just stops in front of the marine, who seems to have passed out cold, and looks at him for a second. Sanji’s shaking slightly, but Zoro doesn’t think it’s from anger anymore.

Then Sanji seems to decide that he’s seen enough, because he crouches down and slowly pushes the man until he rolls over. He picks up Zoro’s katana, then, one by one, and when he gets to Wado, he lifts the sword as if it’s something delicate; something fragile. He’s careful with it, even as he’s sliding it back into its sheath, sure to hold it with light fingers and a gentle grip. He treats Zoro’s swords with as much respect as his own kitchen knives, if not more, and Zoro’s grateful.

He’s grateful, so he lets him touch. He lets Sanji’s eyes wander up and down his most prized possession, curious and almost reverent; lets him take his time when in any other circumstance – with any other person – Zoro would be nervous and fidgety until had his katana back in his hands.

Not with Sanji, though. Not with him, because he trusts Sanji, so he trusts him to take good care of his katana when he’s handling them.

Sanji lets Wado slide fully into place, stares for a little longer, and then stands up and makes his way back to Zoro. He stops about a metre away, still acting strange, and holds out the three sheathed katana.

“Here,” he says, and Zoro notices that his voice is carefully emotionless.

Regardless, Zoro’s eager to have his weapons back, so he reaches out a hand, and takes his three swords off of Sanji. “Thanks, cook.”

Sanji smiles, but it’s thin and forced and fake, eyes distant as he appears to be staring at a point to the left of Zoro’s eyes.

Then he’s walking past Zoro, careful to avoid bumping shoulders. Zoro straps his weapons back into place, and turns to see Sanji heading towards the door. Zoro’s lost, and it’s the first time that it hasn’t been the physical kind. He follows him out, and then before Zoro can bring anything up, they hear Luffy’s call.

“GUYSSS!!! WE’RE GOING NOW! MEET ME OUT FRONT!”

Before Zoro can even open his mouth or make a wrong turn, Sanji’s grabbing the back of his shirt again (he seems to have made a habit of it), and drags him to a smashed-in window. Zoro doesn’t have time to question what he’s doing, because then they’re falling from the second floor and hurtling towards the ground, and it’s all Zoro can do to brace himself for impact and curse the cook all sorts of colourful words inside his head.

They land, and immediately Sanji’s grip on him disappears. By the time Zoro’s picked himself up Sanji’s already gone, and when he catches up to the rest of his nakama and they start running back to the ship, Sanji makes sure to stay on the other side of the group, fretting over the girls.

He doesn’t look over.

So Zoro tries not to look back.

His stomach is feeling unsettled, and it has nothing to do with the running or the fall.

No. It has far too much to do with the questions swirling around his head, and the nauseating resemblance between this current situation and the one of this morning.

As always, Zoro feels like he’s losing the battle against Nami and Robin.

But the worst part, he thinks, is that he might have an idea of what the battle is over, now. And it’s not one he can fight with his katana.

But what difference does it make, anyway? He laughs bitterly.

He’s pretty sure that no matter what he does, this is the one battle in his life that he’s destined to lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos would be appreciated!
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> My main [Tumblr](https://hazzilyeverafter.tumblr.com/), and my side blog for [One Piece](https://hazzilyeverafter-onepiece.tumblr.com/).


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoro makes his decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all my readers,
> 
> I'm so terribly, awfully sorry I've made you wait so long for this chapter!! But it's finally the holidays after a hectic term, so I've started writing again.
> 
> Here's Chapter 9! Enjoy.

They make it back to the Sunny, boarding quickly and deciding unanimously that they should leave the island immediately, before backup marines start arriving and causing them unnecessary trouble.

The only crew member who votes to stay longer is Luffy, but. Well.

When did they ever count his vote in regards to these things?

(Never.)

So, as Nami dishes out orders, the next few minutes are filled with organised scuffle, crew members scampering back and forth to secure and control a ship so much larger than their meagre crew of nine. The unfilled spaces on board never feel empty or lonely, though, because despite having such a small crew, the Straw Hat Pirates overflow with enough enthusiasm and faith and energy and trust and love to make every nook and cranny of the ship feel warm, and safe, and lived in. To the nine aboard, the Thousand Sunny is more than just a ship, or even just a fellow nakama.

She is their home.

So they take extra care of her, Nami steering her expertly out of the dock and away from danger, because none of them want to lose her like they lost Merry. As long as any of them can help it, Sunny will not be neglected, and she will stay with them. Because although each member of the crew is undeniably strong by themselves, it cannot be denied they are infinitely stronger when they are together.

As Zoro fully unfurls the sails and Franky raises the anchor and everybody else rushes around in practiced grace and cooperation, Zoro watches as Chopper sits a protesting Sanji down on the stairs and tries to inspect his wounds.

“Honestly, Chopper,” Sanji insists, gently but firmly brushing off Chopper’s hooves as they try to hold his head still, “I’m perfectly fine! Don’t worry!”

“But how do you _know_??” Chopper pleads indignantly. “Let me check! There’s quite a lot of dried blood on your face, Sanji!”

Sanji looks down at Chopper for a few moments, and Zoro can spot the exact moment that Sanji relents. His shoulders go lax, and he heaves a sigh, head drooping a little.

Zoro, at least, feels a little bit better about himself when he realises that Chopper’s big, wobbly reindeer eyes seem to work on Sanji, too. Looks like Zoro’s not the only one who is swayed far too easily by Chopper’s killer pout.

“Fine,” Sanji grouches, “But only a check-up! I’m perfectly capable of bandaging myself!”

Chopper knows a final compromise when he sees one, and so doesn’t hesitate to nod his head eagerly. “Okay, Sanji!”

Sometimes, Zoro swears that Chopper knows the devastating effect of his cute face, and purposefully uses it to persuade the more stubborn members of their crew.

He can’t say he’s too bothered, though, because just seeing the adorable fuzz ball that is Chopper has raised his spirits significantly.

Because you know what?

Zoro may care too much about what Sanji thinks of him, and Sanji may not care enough, but that doesn’t mean that Sanji is the centre of the universe. Zoro doesn’t need his approval or his recognition or his goddamned _friendship_ to be happy, because he had lived perfectly fine for _nineteen goddamned years_ before Sanji stumbled into his life, and he can live for another nineteen more.

But just because Zoro doesn’t need it, doesn’t mean he doesn’t crave it desperately, and the more he thinks about it, the more his insides seem to twist into an ever tightening knot.

Suddenly, the world tilts, and Zoro feels quite nauseous.

He finally secures the mast into place, before hastily retreating into the ship, and to the relative comfort of his bunk.

He sits down on his bed, leaning against the wall, and his head spins. Thoughts, and opinions, and facts, and memories, and _emotions_ flutter though his head, one after the other in no particular order, a flashing whirlwind of chaos that causes him to lean his head into his hands; causes him to feel uncomfortable and lonely and maybe even sad.

Everything flies through, faster and faster, thoughts from completely different scenarios, and events from completely different days, meddling with his brain and causing a frustrated groan to escape his lips, and through it all, through absolutely _everything_ , despite all the differences, he finds that the only constant is Sanji.

He tightens his hands in his hair, fingers weaving through green strands and tugging, as if the pain could distract him and make it all okay again.

Because he realises, now.

He realises that nothing will ever be the same again, not after he’s thought about it, not after he knows.

He should have picked it up way, way earlier.

He should have picked it up when he started looking forward to his fights with Sanji, despite his injuries afterwards and all the consequences.

He should have picked it up when he started relating the smell of cigarettes to trust, and maybe, if he’s completely honest with himself, even home.

He should have picked it up when his favourite colour since as far back as he can remember, a nice shade of green, changed to blue.

He should have picked it up when he started to notice the fall of Sanji’s hair over his face, or the precise curl of his eyebrows, or the way his suits are tailor made.

He should have picked it up.

Then maybe, he could have stopped it from snowballing into what it is presently, or if that’s implausible, he could have at least stalled it. Prepared himself, so that the full force of the impact wouldn’t hit him as hard as it is now, leaving him winded and gasping for air, as if his lungs can’t take in enough oxygen despite his best efforts.

As if his lungs have no more room for even one more breath, and he can’t help but wonder why.

Maybe it’s because they’re stuffed too full of Sanji.

Zoro laughs shakily, because wouldn’t that be funny? That his lungs have deemed Sanji as more important than air, and that the reason his lungs are filling up is because his heart contains too much of Sanji already, and is overflowing?

_Wouldn’t that be funny?_

But to his horror, Zoro feels tears prickling his eyelashes, clumping them together, and so he quickly presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. He can’t let any fall. He’s not sure why, but it seems important – he can’t let any fall, because it feels like if he did, it would make everything all too real.

It would make it undeniable. He won’t be able to take it back, to lie to himself.

But honestly, it’s too late for that.

Because the truth is out.

And if Zoro starts to shake slightly, alone in the suddenly too small cabin that never used to feel anything but homely, nobody but him has to know.

 

xxx

 

Zoro doesn’t know how long he sits there for, but in the time, he manages to sort a few thoughts out.

He decides that he’s not going to actively pursue this – he’s not going to try to persuade Sanji, and he sure as hell isn’t telling him about it.

He’s not going to tell anyone.

Because it wouldn’t be fair. Everybody knows that Sanji is a ladies man, and just about as straight as they come, if not straighter. Time and time again, Sanji has proved it. Zoro remembers.

Zoro remembers when Sanji fusses over the girls, pampering and spoiling them for no other reason than because it makes him happy.

Zoro remembers when Sanji cooks elaborate dishes for the ladies that he planned for days, _weeks_ , beforehand, just to see them smile.

Zoro remembers when Sanji drools after boobs and curves and giggles, practically worshipping the ground women walk on even when he knows that he stands no chance.

Zoro remembers when Sanji’s attention on Zoro is instantly diverted as soon as a woman is in sight.

Zoro remembers.

Zoro remembers every day.

And maybe when Sanji complained to him about how nobody wanted him, nobody loved him, at times when they were tired and it was late enough for walls to crumble and truths to replace them, when it was late enough for them to stop fighting for just a single precious minute, and all Zoro did was grunt so that Sanji knew he had heard him, maybe he had meant something else.

Maybe he had meant, _I do. I want you. I-_

No. He’s not going there.

But in fleeting moments of Zoro’s memory, when he thought that maybe, _maybe_ Sanji likes guys, too, likes _Zoro_ , even, with the quiche and the cuddling and the tension, Sanji kills the stupid, dangerous thought off by flocking back to Nami and Robin.

Just like always.

Nothing has changed – that’s how it has always been, and Zoro feels so dumb suddenly, to think that for even a _second_ he believed that him and Sanji could be a thing.

A permanent thing, that could last a long time. Maybe forever.

He wipes angrily at his eyes, suddenly so angry at himself, because he’s _slipping_. Sanji wants someone to fuss over, wants someone to buy roses and chocolates for, wants someone who makes him want to get down on one knee and ask for forever with, wants someone to marry, wants someone who will gift them with children and a family and a puppy and a white picket fence. Sanji wants someone who fits the whole criteria, is the whole shebang, and all Zoro wants is Sanji. But it’s not enough.

Sanji doesn’t need him – he’ll be perfectly happy with anybody who is soft and curvy and feminine, all of which Zoro isn’t.

All of which he can never be.

And that’s life, isn’t it? And it’s fine. He’s okay. He just has to deal with it. He won’t tell anyone, and hopefully, it’ll fade with time. His relationship with Sanji is fine now, anyway – civil, mostly, and no longer self-destructive. They’re friends, through it all, despite Sanji’s constant mood swings and complete changes in attitude. He’s probably just not used to the new dynamic of their relationship, which explains why he sometimes seems to warm up before suddenly going cold. Anything he thought about Sanji being interested in him was imaginary. It was. He needs to stop deluding himself, it’s not good for him.

He’ll keep working towards his dream of defeating Mihawk – that will come first. Before anything.

And he’ll keep telling himself that Sanji’s not interested. And he won’t care.

_Sanji’s not interested._

Despite his best efforts, his vision goes blurry again.

_Sanji’s not interested._

A tear finally escapes, and he gives up. Lets it form.

_Sanji’s not interested._

He feels it making its way down his cheek, slowly, slowly.

_Sanji’s not interested._

It curves around his jawline, to his chin.

_Sanji’s not interested._

Falls, and it’s gone. Like it was never there.

_Sanji’s not interested._

And it’s the truth. Really. It is.

_Sanji’s not interested._

And he’ll tell himself it, over and over again.

_Sanji’s not interested._

He’ll keep telling himself until his heart believes it, and it doesn’t hurt anymore.

 

xxx

 

Sanji almost catches him.

Zoro’s always been observant, though, even when going through an existential crisis, so he hears Sanji’s shoes as they click against the floorboards as he walks closer and closer to the door.

He has just enough time to sit up straight and wipe his arm over his eyes a final time before Sanji’s striding through the doorway, carrying antiseptics and bandages in his arms.

He stops short upon seeing Zoro and frowns, only for a second, but it’s enough for Zoro to feel even worse. He doesn’t show it on his face, though, he never does, so he just leans back against the wall and tries to act nonchalant.

Sanji saunters over to his own bed, opposite Zoro’s, dropping the stash in his arms onto the sheets, while still holding his stare.

“What are you doing in here, marimo?”

Zoro shrugs, maintaining lazy eye contact and keeping his posture relaxed despite the fact that he can feel his skin crawling from Sanji’s unnerving gaze. If he can tell that Zoro’s been crying, he doesn’t mention it.

“Nothing.” He shrugs, and decides that the way Sanji’s mood has changed again, seemingly back to normal, is wreaking havoc on his brains. “What are _you_ doing in here?”

Slowly, Sanji raises him arm and points to the pile on his bed, giving him a stare dead enough to end the lives of those less death-defying than Zoro. “What does it look like, idiot?”

Luckily, more due to over-exposure than anything else, Zoro has become immune to these things. “Okay, okay. Sheesh. No need to get your panties in a twist, cook.” He rolls his eyes.

To his utter glee (the traitor), Zoro finds himself quite elated when Sanji doesn’t kick him in the face. Seems that their relationship has changed enough for small insults to slip by unpunished.

He’ll store that information for later use. He’s sure it will come in handy.

Sanji rolls his eyes right back, finally turning away and giving Zoro a chance to breathe. He’s not sure it was worth it when Sanji starts removing his bloodied shirt, though. Inch after inch, creamy, pale skin is revealed, hints of muscles under the skin rippling slightly as Sanji moves.

Zoro finds himself enraptured, again finding himself lost in the simple, ethereal beauty that is Sanji, breathtaking yet still so masculine.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts that are wandering into dangerous territory when the shirt comes off, though, and the bullet wound is revealed. The bandages previously covering it are tattered and hanging off his shoulder, and most of the injury is in plain sight. There’s neat stitches that were obviously Chopper’s handiwork, dried blood from when his wound obviously busted opened today, and angry bruising and swelling that screams agitated wound.

It looks painful, and Zoro opens his mouth before he can register what he’s saying.

“I could help you bandage that, if you’d like.” He wants to swallow the words as soon as they’re out, shove them back down his throat aggressively so that hopefully they’ll stay there forever and ever and ever and never see the light of day, but it’s too late for that.

Sanji turns back to look at him, roll of fresh bandages in hand where he’d paused the unravelling upon hearing Zoro’s offer. Zoro briefly registers the six-pack and the tantalising trail leading into his pants, but he doesn’t focus too long because he’s too busy mentally hitting himself in the face. _Why did he say that??_ It was a weird thing to say to someone, _especially_ Sanji.

Sanji evaluates him for a second, slight line forming between his eyebrows as he studies Zoro and seems to see right into his very soul, right to his heart going _thud thud thump thud_ rapidly in his chest, right to the thoughts whirling around in his head.

In that moment, with Sanji’s eyes on him, Zoro feels transparent.

And it scares him, which is a very uncommon thing, because he feels exposed, readable, and he doesn’t like it. Because for once, he has something to hide.

But it seems Sanji doesn’t find much on his search, though, because he speaks up. “Why would you say that?” He squints a little at Zoro, tilting his head and scrunching his nose, “Wait. Is there something you wanted?”

It’s Zoro’s turn to frown, now, because what?

“What?”

Sanji sighs, turning back to his roll of bandages and starting to unravel more. “I _said_ , stupid, is there something you wanted?” He quickly glances up at Zoro, “You can just ask, you know. You don’t have to butter me up first.”

Zoro sits up straighter, leaning forward onto his arms. “Uh… no? There’s nothing I wanted. I was just asking. I dunno.” He purses his lips. “And why do you automatically think I would only offer to help if I was asking a favour, anyway? I might have just been being nice.” He waggles his eyebrows.

Sanji cuts a section of bandage, before snorting in disbelief. “Pfft, yeah, right. You, of all people, offering to help out of _kindness_? That’s as likely as you voluntarily helping an old lady cross the street and carrying her groceries just because you felt like being a humble citizen! Hah! Not. Likely.” He smirks a little to himself, starting to undo the ripped bandage on his shoulder. “And besides, I’m not just picking on you. Nobody offers to help me without a favour to ask.”

Zoro’s teasing smirk falls off his face faster than he could say ‘Sanji’. He feels unsettled, like he’s just discovered something important. Maybe he has. He’s discovered something about Sanji, after all. “What are you on about? Of course people don’t only offer to help you when they want something in return.”

Sanji seems to sense the change in mood, and maybe also the fact that he’s said something wrong; something he shouldn’t have let slip, as the smile melts off his face, too. He turns his back on Zoro again, and lifts his good shoulder in a seemingly careless shrug. “Don’t they?”

In that moment, Zoro thinks that he’s stumbled onto something important enough for his concern. He also thinks that Sanji’s been spending too much time with Nami, and other women who take his chivalrous attitude and kind heart for granted.

Of _course_. It makes sense, now. Sanji’s not stupid, as often as Zoro insists he is. He knows how the women treat him; read: like dirt. It’s obviously taken a serious toll on Sanji, too, and his feel of self-worth. Zoro’s not surprised, to be honest. With how often and completely it occurs, it would have taken a serious toll on anyone. Sanji tries so hard, and puts in so much, and offers an arm and a leg and his heart each and every time. But time and time again, he’s turned down, and quite mercilessly, too. He hands his heart over, and it’s an invitation to take it, treasure it, have it forever, but it’s also an invitation to break it, drop it and shatter it on the floor, and everyone seems to choose the latter. They abuse his feelings, instead using it to their advantage, pretending to be nice and stringing him along before asking for things that Sanji is all too willing to give, and then forgetting about him. But, despite easily agreeing each and every time, Sanji knows.

And it’s not fair, because all those women are so stupid. And he supposes that because it happens so often, it’s what Sanji automatically thinks of when he thinks of people offering their help, despite scenarios with their nakama where this is often not the case, and in that moment, Zoro decides.

He’s making an amendment to his decision.

He’s not going to stay away from Sanji, or distance himself emotionally. But as a nakama, and nothing else, he’s going to make Sanji understand that he’s amazing, and he deserves someone who sees that, even if it’s not Zoro. He’s going to help Sanji, and be there for him, and not ask for anything in return, as many times as it takes to balance out all the times when this wasn’t the case. To make him forget all the negative memories, and all the times he was left alone to piece himself together after over and over again, people let him down. It’s the least that Sanji deserves.

So Zoro stands, and Sanji turns to look at him with confusion etched into his face. “What are you-“

Zoro doesn’t let him finish. Instead, with a gentleness that surprises even himself, he takes the bandage out of Sanji’s hand, and carefully starts to wrap it around his shoulder. He’s extra slow, making sure not to pull too hard or be too rough, tries to make it as comfortable for Sanji as possible.

And Sanji lets him.

Probably out of shock more than anything, because Zoro’s never been this quiet, or concentrated, or _careful_ around him before, and certainly not to help him bandage his wounds. Zoro’s normally the one to _cause_ the damage. But either way, Sanji remains silent, letting his own hand fall loose as Zoro takes over. His head is angled towards the floor and slightly tilted towards Zoro, hair casting most of his face in shadow, but Zoro can see one of his eyes as he glances up quickly from his work. What he sees is a little heartbreaking; a lost look, because Sanji doesn’t seem to understand what Zoro’s doing. _Why_ he’s doing it. But it solidifies, at least in Zoro’s head, that he’s making the right decision.

He’s going to wipe that look off of Sanji’s face, even if it takes time. No matter how long it takes, he’s going to do it.

So he steels his resolve, and carries on bandaging Sanji up. And slowly, the tension escapes Sanji’s shoulders, and he slouches a bit, leaning slightly onto Zoro.

It’s a step in the right direction.

So onwards Zoro works. Meticulously, around and around, he wraps the bandage, secures it, before moving onto Sanji’s other injuries.

And through it all, the two of them remain silent, not a word breathed past shaky lips.

Yet, Zoro thinks, the air around them is heavy, holding and communicating to them all the meaning and weight that their words would have tried and failed to articulate.

So he cleans Sanji’s cuts, and bandages his head, and time passes slowly like treacle; like molasses. He feels stuck in a separate world, just him and Sanji, and it’s nice. Peaceful. And Sanji seems to agree, because he wilts further and further into Zoro, now seated on the bed, eyelids drooping before he finally falls asleep, head tucked into Zoro’s neck.

And with an arm wrapped around a slender waist, Zoro breathes him in, the familiar smell of cigarettes and the sea, the smell of home, before laying him down slowly, carefully, so he doesn’t jostle him awake. He tucks him in, and with one last look, leaves the cabin, taking all the first aid products with him.

And he tells himself that this, what they have, is enough.

That helping Sanji, as a nakama and no more, will make him happy.

He reminds himself.

_Sanji’s not interested._

It still aches, in a place deep inside, and it doesn’t hurt any less than before.

But he steels his resolve, and tells himself that this is for Sanji. Because this will make Sanji happy.

And for now, that’s as close to satisfied as Zoro can get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. (Sorry sorry sorry sorry.)
> 
> My main [Tumblr](https://hazzilyeverafter.tumblr.com/), and my side blog for [One Piece](https://hazzilyeverafter-onepiece.tumblr.com/).


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Zoro the Chef" has a nice little ring to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> It's been a while, I know. But this chapter is super long in comparison, so hopefully it makes up for it a little... I really am sorry for the wait!
> 
> I can't promise that updates will get more frequent though, because school really is getting hectic! Please be patient, I really really appreciate it. I love you guys!
> 
> Enjoy.

Sanji sleeps right through the rest of the morning, and well into the afternoon.

And generally speaking, this is no problem, but the Sunny is home to a straw-hat-wearing-meat-black-hole, so at around one in the afternoon, Luffy starts whining for food.

“Nehhhh, Zoro, when is Sanji going to wake up?”

Luffy prods the swordsman with his foot, causing him to grunt in annoyance and roll over on the deck, so that his back is facing his captain. He closes his eyes again, and feels himself starting to drift off. He just wants to forget today. And maybe when he wakes up, he’ll have found that it was nothing but a bad dream.

“Ehh?! Zoro, don’t you fall asleep too! Who’s going to feed me??”

Zoro groans as he’s wrenched from a nice place that is silent, and _not demanding for food_ , rolling back around to glare at Luffy who’s standing over him and blocking out the sun. He ignores the outrageous pout on Luffy’s face, choosing to glare at him instead.

“I don’t know! Don’t care, either. Go ask the witch.”

He rolls over again, this time with finality, letting a hopefully intimidating _hmph_ escape his lips that tragically misses the mark. But Roronoa Zoro _does not sulk_ , so ‘intimidating hmph’ it is.

“Noooooooo. I’m not asking _Nami_. You know she would never,” Luffy whines. “She’ll probably punch me, too. She’s so scary.”

…

“Usopp.”

“Has some sort of ‘can’t-cook-or-I’ll-die’ disease.”

“Chopper.”

“He’s with Sanji.”

“Robin.”

“…She just looked at me all creepily and said that she’s always wanted to know what rubber meat tastes like. I ran.”

“…Franky.”

“‘SUPER! NO WAY, BRO!’”

“Brook!”

“Oh, yeah. He just said ‘I would help you, but I have no heart! Skull joke! YOHOHOHOHO!’”

“GAH! Why is everyone so lazy?!”

Luffy blinks at him slowly, where he’s whipped himself back around in a fit of frustration too strong for the situation at hand. But his emotions have been shot to hell ever since Sanji dared to swagger into his life, with his stupid elegant gait and useless silky hair, so he’s not all too surprised with the revelation that he finally appears to be going insane. Luffy watches him in silence for a little longer, to the point where Zoro feels his hackles start to rise, but he needn’t have worried.

Luffy sticks a finger up his nose in thought. “Actually, I think they learnt from you.”

It takes Zoro a second to realise what Luffy’s talking about, but when he does, he feels a vein bulge in his forehead. He momentarily forgets about the strange, hollow feeling in his chest as he narrows his eyes at his captain, feeling the emptiness fill with a familiar and welcome anger that makes him feel safe.

“…What are you implying there, Luffy?”

His voice promises violence stronger than Nami’s best punch. Luffy seems to know it, too, because he wisely starts backing away.

“Shishishishi, nothing!” He waves his arms around in front of him. “Shishishi. Hehe. Um. I’m not scared of Nami, anymore. I’ll go ask her.”

Then he’s scrambling away, and Zoro sighs as he lets himself fall back onto the deck, settling comfortably for an afternoon nap. He knows that sleeping is a form of escape, where nothing and nobody can touch him; can hurt him, unlike in reality, but he lets himself have this. It’s a temporary moment of weakness, where he lets himself run from the pain and hide from the fear, because Zoro won’t let himself have a permanent one. But all the same, the pain he feels is different from the usual that he’s so, so used to – it’s stronger, and hurts more, in a place that he supposes could be his heart, and he can’t ignore it like he always does – doesn’t think he knows how.

And that scares him.

So he runs, and he hides.

And he tries not to dream, because more than ever before, he doesn’t want to see blonde bangs and eyes the colour of the sea – doesn’t want to see Sanji invade the one escape he has left.

 

xxx

 

Zoro wakes to a lump of rubber being dumped on his body.

With eyes still closed and head still swimming with familiar swirls, he reflexively throws a half-hearted punch in the direction of where he thinks Luffy fell from, but misses and earns a brain-rattling punch to the head in return.

Ah.

“What do you want from me, witch?” He grumbles, rubbing the bump that’s surely forming on his head. Why does he live with this abuse? He must have been delirious when he let Luffy recruit what surely must be the devil onto the crew.

“What I want,” comes Nami’s voice, so obviously laced with the threat of owed money that Zoro could recognise it in his sleep, “is for you to take the source of my migraine to the kitchen, and cook him lunch. And while you’re at it, everyone else’s lunch, too.”

When all Zoro does is grunt and carry on laying there, Nami changes her approach.

“And if you don’t go, _now_ ,” Zoro starts to recognise a tight knot of dread forming in his gut. Sensing that things are about to go downhill and _fast_ , Zoro blinks open both eyes to the sight of a very disturbing expression on the witch’s face. He decides that it’s a nice blend of sadistic, crazed and mentally unstable, with a dash of shark. Her grin only grows wider when she notices that she’s captured his attention, teeth turning pointy in excitement as evil ideas run in loops through her head.

“…then I’ll have no choice but to raise your debt by 3000%!”

Her face loses all traces of threat when her eyes turn to Beri signs, hands flying up to cradle her face as she throws her head back in glee.

This, more than anything, alarms Zoro enough that he immediately jumps to his feet. He grabs Luffy by the collar, who is still passed out cold (no doubt due to the dozen painful lumps stacked on his head, and face that’s swollen to the colour and size of a plum – a very, very large plum), and hightails it to the kitchen before he has to witness Nami start to foam at the mouth or something else equally disturbing.

He slams the galley door shut behind him, locking it for good measure, before dumping Luffy into a chair at the table and realising just what he’s gotten himself into.

“Shit.”

He doesn’t know when he started using Sanji’s choice expletive as his own, but to hell with it all. He’s dug his own grave, he might as well lie in it. And while he’s on a roll, he may as well admit that he’s dead, too. Sanji’s going to kill him.

 _Who in their right mind would put Roronoa Zoro in charge of making lunch_??

Of all the people least likely to be brutally murdered for touching the cook’s prized kitchen utensils, Zoro is most certainly not one of them. No. He’s classified in the other group.

…You know, the “If You Get Closer Than Three Metres to My Babies I Will Kill You in Your Sleep So Don’t You Forget It” Group, along with Satan and the Actual Devil, and people who repeatedly sneeze snot and germs into their food and never ever _ever_ wash their hands after going to the bathroom.

(Ahem. Luffy.)

Long story short, Zoro is going to die.

Recognising and accepting his fate, Zoro sighs, and makes his way to the fridge.

What the hell. Might as well go out with a bang.

 

xxx

 

He has no idea what he’s doing.

There’s basically the entire contents of the fridge and surrounding cupboards scattered on the counter, lemons mixed with flour and cheese piled with sausages in a mess that’s even more jumbled than his thoughts.

_What does Sanji normally cook for lunch again?_

Zoro tries to think back, rattling his brains to find any easy lunches that Sanji has made in the past that he could possibly replicate.

Sandwiches?

Ah, no. They ran out of bread, and Sanji didn’t have time to restock on that last island.

He’s a little disappointed to realise that for the life of him, he can’t think of anything else the cook has made that he could easily copy. So he has a weakness at cooking, okay?? So what? Anybody who points it out will be welcomed with three swords through their guts. Then they wouldn’t need to eat anymore, and so would have no reason to complain.

Peh, he’s a genius.

But it’s only as he’s gloating to himself that it truly daunts on him how much of a genius he actually is.

He doesn’t need to know how to replicate any dishes off the top of his head! He has access to all the best recipes in the world – Sanji’s very own creations designed from the heart and carved from the soul – in Sanji’s cooking journal. Zoro’s sure he has one, because Sanji couldn’t have been making notes on that quiche lorraine recipe for him, or those dishes for Chopper and the girls, as a once-off. They must have been part of a much larger project.

He has a gut feeling that the cook keeps the collection of notes in his galley, and since it’s never lead him wrong before, Zoro trusts his gut.

…And as long as everyone eats the food, what Sanji doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

He makes it to the drawers in two long strides, starting to rummage through them to find God’s Gift to Zoro (except who is he kidding, he doesn’t believe in God).

His hand hits against something solid and hard as he swipes it through the papers in the top drawer, and he’s certain an expression even more distressing than Nami’s show earlier is now pasted on his face.

He’s too excited to give a damn.

He grabs onto the spine and whips it out of the drawer, taking a brief second to stare in awe at the journal that will one day change the course of cuisine history.

But he’s on a time limit, here – it probably won’t be long before Luffy wakes up, so after a quiet moment of respect he quickly flicks open the journal to the first page. The recipe for beef wellington is neatly written, followed by notes at the end for each member of the crew, with immense detail describing their likes, dislikes and comments on the dish. It’s much like Zoro remembers for the sheet of notes he peeked at while Sanji was asleep, except ordered by recipe and not by name.

There’s a neatly printed tick next to Luffy, Nami, Robin, Usopp, Franky, and Brook’s names, a simple “Vegetarian” next to Chopper’s, and a harsh and messy “Disliked (As Goddamn Usual)” next to Zoro’s – pen sunk deep into the paper as if Sanji had been pressing down too hard when he wrote it – and Zoro hates that it makes him feel awful. It’s a stark contrast to the hearts surrounding Nami and Robin’s names.

He remembers that day. The words thrown that cut deeper than knives, the swings made that balanced it all out again. Remembers the “ugh, what are you making me eat?”, and the smouldering eyes and unforgiving kick that sends him flying into the mast he receives in retaliation. Way, way back.

Back when they’d only just met, a few days away from the Baratie – Sanji had started the journal all the way back then; what now seems like an age ago. Since that time of their lives, it’s been days that have bled into weeks, weeks that have flowed into months, and months that have leapt into years.

Breakfast, lunch, dinner.

Snacks and drinks in between. Mostly for the girls, but even so.

There have been so many meals – so many chances to be grateful, or at least honest about it all, but time and time and time again, meal after meal after meal, Zoro has only been rude about Sanji’s greatest love in life.

_Meh, it’s all the same._

_I can’t taste anything that I couldn’t create._

_The food was bearable. Barely._

When he should have been saying _I’ve never eaten anything that tastes like beauty before_ , and _your cooking can warp dimensions_ , and _one day your name will join mine to be known by the heavens,_ and _how how how how_ and _please feed me forever_ and _I believe in you_.

So many days, so many meals, so many chances.

And he missed them all.

And while he was being thick and worrying about pride and competition and other stupid, irrelevant things, Sanji took each jab seriously; took each jab to heart. Tried to improve, to impress a moron whose only goal was to remain unimpressed – an impossible hurdle that Sanji could never clear, no matter how hard he tried or how high he jumped.

After blaming all those girls that have treated Sanji like shit and calling them stupid, and ungrateful, and _blind_ because of what they could have been a part of for the rest of forever, but instead chose to throw away, without realising it Zoro has done the exact. Same. Thing. Except possibly worse.

He may not be someone who Sanji would hang the stars and steal the moon and lap the universe for, but they _are_ nakama – and they share a different but no less important kind of love. And over the years, each and every day, Zoro has had thousands upon thousands upon _thousands_ of opportunities to make Sanji happy. And it would have cost him nothing but his stupid pride – nothing like a lifetime that he’s accused all those girls of being too selfish to hand over.

No. All he had to do was smile, perhaps. Deliver a compliment or two at most.

And maybe it wouldn’t have meant as much as a girl saying ‘forever’ to Sanji, but maybe it would’ve meant more.

He sighs, and strengthens his resolve to right his wrongs.

Realising that he’s gripping the journal too hard, he drops it to the counter and shakes out the cramps in his hand. After a quick check to see that Luffy is still out cold, he flips over the page, and is greeted by the next recipe – this one glued in, from when Sanji must have worked on it separately. It’s a recipe for Baked Alaska, and Zoro may not be an expert in these things but even he’s pretty sure that this dessert is difficult-as-hell to create. Which makes him think why at the time all he’d said was _that looks like sugary death, shit-cook_ , instead of something more along the lines of _that looks like art_.

He’s dreading looking at the footnotes, but steels himself and reads them all. “I think I made Chopper cry…”, “Nami is an ethereal beauty when she moans”, and “wasted on Luffy” stand out like beacons, but what really has his attention is the insignificant mess of pen lines next to his name.

Insignificant, but perhaps the most significant of all.

He squints and tries to read underneath the dark, frustrated scribbles, and thinks he catches the words “stupid, stupid, STUPID”, but he’s not entirely sure. Zoro frowns, because for once he doesn’t know whether Sanji means Zoro’s stupid, or himself.

He doesn’t like it.

Underneath the mess on his otherwise pristine page, Sanji’s written “He doesn’t like sweet things”. It’s so innocent, neat in a light, fair font no different from everything else on the page, and it would have completely had Zoro _fooled_ had it not been for the bitter mess inked just above.

So many scribbles, to the point where it’s just a massive blot of ink with a few shreds of white in between. Tears in the paper, where Sanji’d pressed too hard, too frequently. Ruining the carefree tone of the page from all the stupid _hearts_ near Nami’s name.

Zoro’s staring, but suddenly he doesn’t want to look anymore.

Flips to the next page, and the next and the next and the next, because none of them contain anything that Zoro could make for lunch without ruining the galley, and Zoro’s not sure he can stomach reading any more of the notes written with so much thought.

Maybe he shouldn’t have taken the journal. It feels like an invasion of privacy too huge, now, even for nakama.

So he flips and he flips and he flips with a frantic edge, past the recipes for macarons and galantine and coq au vin and béarnaise sauce, past the page with the quiche lorraine recipe glued in, past dozens more that he can’t even read because they have a million and one accents and are probably in French, until he’s near the centre of the book and finally sees something that he may be able to duplicate.

Not exactly, because half of the taste always depends on the passion of the chef, and that’s something Zoro can’t copy, even with a step-by-step recipe.

But not even Roronoa Zoro can stuff up tacos, right?

Well, obviously the actual recipe isn’t that simple… he looks back down.

“Beer-Braised Chicken Tacos with Cabbage Slaw”.

Hmm… Beer-Braised. He can work with that. And for those who don’t drink beer… he flicks to the next page. Aha! There. Perfect.

“Fish Tacos with Tomatillo Sauce”.

They have plenty of fish in the aquarium, or if not, he can always intimidate Usopp into fishing for some. And Chopper eats fish, right?

…Eh. He can just have the salad if he doesn’t.

Satisfied with his findings, Zoro sets to work.

_Heat a medium skillet over medium-high heat…_

…What the hell is a skillet??

 

xxx

 

Well.

 _Well._ Zoro isn’t going to say that the entire ordeal went fantastic, because the burnt pan (skillet? He’s still not sure) smoking in the sink, and the fact that he poured in half the bottle of brown ale instead of 1.5 cups (it was an accident, he swears) is evidence of that, but he’s actually quite proud of the results of his impromptu cooking session. Sure, he didn’t know what Dijon mustard was so he put in an extra jalapeño, and he had no idea what cilantro leaves were so he replaced it with mint, but he tasted the end result and hasn’t died yet, so he’s satisfied.

The others had better be, too, or else he’ll strangle them all and toss them overboard.

Hopefully before Sanji catches wind of his cooking activities and throttles him first, that is.

God.

He surveys the kitchen, scrutinising the benches and worktops for signs that may possibly trigger murder, but aside from the pan that is long beyond saving, everything else looks alright. He’d washed and polished the knives, and wiped down the counters, and rinsed the dishes. Put all the unused ingredients back where he’d found them, and thrown away the rubbish. Carefully placed the journal back where he’d found it.

Everything appears to be in order.

But Zoro can’t shake the feeling that he’s still going to die.

What if he’d accidentally left a hair between the pages of the book? Would Sanji notice? He’d surely be able to trace it back to Zoro, if he did. Nobody else has green hair.

Zoro curses his stupid genetics, but refuses to go over and check every page.

No. He’s being stupid and irrational. Sanji will never know. And even if he _does_ find out, he wouldn’t _actually_ butcher Zoro into inch-wide cubes and toss him to the sea kings!

…Right?

He shudders, but decides to leave it. Whatever. There are worse ways to go.

He notices that Luffy’s no longer where he’d left him. Must have woken up and left to pester someone else on the ship, and Zoro is endlessly grateful because he’s not sure he could have dealt with an enthusiastic Luffy while he cooked.

Marching towards the door to call the others in for lunch, he’s just about to twist the doorknob when the door swings violently inwards, missing destroying his face by a hair’s breadth and banging loudly against the wall.

He’s still in shock from almost being mutilated by a door when he looks up, and sees who’s there.

…Shit. Oh, SHIT!

Before actively thinking about it, he’s scrambling backwards a few steps, hastily increasing the space between them before his head’s knocked off by a polished dress shoe.

Because there in the doorway is Sanji, a silhouette backed by the sun and figure enhanced by his suit, and he looks _beyond_ livid. There’s hellfire in his eyes, a cigarette in his mouth, a scowl on his face, and hands in his pockets, and all that together means that someone is going to die.

And it’s not going to be Sanji.

He’s in his classic fighting stance, weight on one foot as the other’s raised slightly and ready to knock in teeth and shatter skulls.

 _Zoro’s_ teeth and _Zoro’s_ skull.

…He tries to placate while he still has the teeth to do so.

“Hey, listen, it’s not-“

“Shut up.”

Zoro does.

Sanji squints at him, scrutinising him from the doorway, and Zoro feels sweat start to bead on his forehead. There’s a blue eye swimming with danger piercing into his, and Zoro’s afraid to drown.

So he looks away.

At the hair the colour of wispy gold dancing in the breeze, and Zoro thinks that maybe he wants to touch it more than Nami wants to touch actual gold. He feels his hands start to tremble slightly by his sides, so he places them on his swords because they always make everything okay again.

A few seconds or maybe an age later, Sanji sighs, and lowers his foot. He brings his hands out of his pockets, tense shoulders slumping as he ruffles his own hair. It’s still a little tangled, left side stuck to his head from where he’d slept on it, and Zoro grits his teeth against the irrational want to slowly run his fingers through it, carefully, so carefully, smoothing out the tangles and evening out the strands, then maybe tucking his bangs behind his ear so Zoro can see his whole face at once, because he has no doubt that it’s so, so beautiful.

Zoro jerks his hand back from where he’s lifted it up towards Sanji without realising, panicking when he sees Sanji’s inquisitive stare and tearing his eyes away. He’s glad that he’s so tanned, because it helps to hide the burning he feels spreading across his nose and to the tips of his ears.

“Oh, god,” Sanji says, trepidation clear in his voice, “What have you done?”

For once, Zoro’s glad that Sanji has automatically assumed his shiftiness is due to his proclaimed incompetence.

“Nothing!” he protests, quick to defend himself, because hey, that’s not fair. Zoro _can_ be good at things if he puts his mind to it! Sometimes. “Your kitchen’s fine, I swear!”

He’s pretty sure that Sanji sees the genuine affronted indignation on his face, because he loses the accusing edge, a tinge of amusement and perhaps exasperation laced in his blue, blue eyes as his face creases into a careful smile.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to see if your ‘fine’ is the same as my ‘fine’, marimo.” Then he’s stepping forwards, but Zoro’s no longer scared for his life because Sanji’s posture shows that he’s no longer mad anymore. Just possibly terrified for the state of his beloved kitchen, because apparently he thinks that Zoro is incapable of cleaning up after himself.

But Zoro has always known how much Sanji loves his galley, so he was sure to be careful. Probably more careful than Sanji is with his utensils himself, even, and to be honest he’s quite proud of how little damage he did.

But Zoro knows that he wants more – more than his own approval.

He wants Sanji to be proud of him, too.

So when Sanji’s shoulder brushes his as he tries to stroll past, Zoro reaches out and grabs onto his arm. Loosely, fingers pressing into flesh only enough to ground him, to show him that Sanji’s real and _right there_ , so Sanji knows that he’s not trying to start a fight.

And it seems to work, too, because he doesn’t get a shoe-print stamped into his face – gets a hesitating wary look, instead.

“What are you doing?” But Sanji doesn’t rip his arm away; could even possibly lean into the touch, but Zoro’s mind is too busy spinning to make sure.

“Come with me.” It’s not really a question, except it really is.

And he tugs slightly on the forearm in his grasp; doesn’t force it, because he knows he couldn’t force Sanji to do anything, but mainly because he doesn’t want to.

Doesn’t want Sanji coming with him unless he’s happy to, because somehow Sanji’s willingness is important.

And Sanji’s really staring at him now, expression not quite a frown and not quite a gape, just looks lost, suddenly, and Zoro knows the feeling. Because their relationship never used to be like this, and Zoro thinks that they both know they could never go back.

Wouldn’t _want_ to go back, because in between the silence and the touches, there’s a void, a sheer cliff-face that daunts even the bravest man, and Zoro hopes that Sanji’s about to jump.

Zoro’s already falling.

And he knows that once he hits the bottom, he’ll never quite make it back to the top again.

It should feel like plummeting to his death, he knows, but it doesn’t.

It feels like soaring, an eagle in a limitless sky, and Zoro has never felt so invincible, so alive.

And Sanji’s still watching him, gears turning in his head, but Zoro’s not afraid. He’s not sure what expression he’s wearing, but he has a good idea that it’s soft, and a little bit like contentment.

A little like what Sanji’s wearing, now.

And then Sanji’s arm is going limp in his grasp, fingers brushing the inside of Zoro’s arm as he lets it fall; lets Zoro guide him.

“Okay.”

Then there’s a grin spreading on Sanji’s face, eyes crinkling as they sparkle with light, softening his face so he looks so, so much younger. There’s laugh lines forming around his eyes.

Zoro hopes they stay there forever.

“Okay.” Zoro feels his face crumpling into a grin, too, and knows without looking that Sanji’s memorizing his expression to heart, because it’s rare to see him without his iconic scowl or irritating smirk.

Zoro just grins harder, turning around and leading Sanji towards the kitchen, hand on his arm slipping to grip his wrist, instead.

Sanji either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care.

The sound of dress shoes clicking behind him is comforting, and just before entering the kitchen, Zoro stops.

He turns back around. “You’ll never believe what I’ve managed to do,” and he loathes to admit it, but he’s gloating a little.

“What, trash my lovely kitchen?” But Sanji has a teasing lilt to his voice and a smile on his face, so Zoro lets it slide.

Instead of answering, he steps backwards into the kitchen, and Sanji follows.

Zoro catalogues every expression that flits across Sanji’s face as he looks around; catches dread, shock, disbelief, marvel, satisfaction and maybe even I’m-proud-of-you.

It makes his heart swell.

“It’s fine, right?”

He doesn’t need to hear Sanji’s answer to know he’s in the all clear, but he asks, anyway.

“Hmm,” Sanji pretends to ponder, “I dunno. I think I see a speck of dust over-“

He’s cut off by an elbow to the guts, pretends to be fatally wounded before standing up straight and laughing, head cocked back, loud and wild, wild, wild.

It’s all Zoro can do to join him; two men standing in the galley and laughing at nothing and at everything all at once.

After a while, Sanji recovers enough to say “Nah, it’s fine. Better than fine, even. You did good, marimo.”

Zoro hears _it’s perfect, thank you_.

There’s still a smile lingering on both their lips, eyes filled with mirth and something that resembles happiness. They let it stay.

Sanji’s wrist is still encircled by Zoro’s fingers, and none of them bother to pull away, to break the connection.

It feels like peace.

 

xxx

 

“Mmm. These tacos look decent, marimo. I’ll forgive you for the pan, just this once.”

“Really?”

“Hm. So, where did you learn the recipe?”

Zoro feels a brick settle in his stomach.

“Er.”

Sanji narrows his eyes, grabs a fork and tries the filling.

Chews.

The peaceful atmosphere disappears as quickly as it came when Zoro is booted violently out the door and halfway across the deck.

“THIS IS MY RECIPE, ASSHOLE! WHERE DID YOU FIND IT?!”

“Nowhere! Ow! Stop! Okay, okay, I found it in your journal – oof! – just cut it – ack! – out, shit-cook! Ah!”

Then Sanji’s turning an alarming shade of white, legs no longer flying to collide painfully with a swordsman haphazardly sprawled across deck, eyes widening to the point that they resemble saucers.

Zoro’s worried he’s going to pass out.

He stumbles to his feet, hands stretched out in a placating manner in front of him, “Hey, it’s in good condition, I promise-“

“How much did you read?”

Zoro blinks in confusion, not expecting the question. But Sanji’s tone is deadly enough for him to answer the question seriously.

“Um…halfway? I dunno. Why?”

But then Sanji’s breathing a sigh of relief, smoke curling from his mouth and eyes closing for a moment, before ignoring him in favour of disappearing back into the galley. He pauses in the doorway, looking back over his shoulder for a split second.

“Don’t ever touch it again.”

And then the door’s slamming shut, and Zoro’s left staring at the place that Sanji had stood only a second ago, wondering why no matter what he does, he’s always locked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated.
> 
> My main [Tumblr](https://hazzilyeverafter.tumblr.com/), and my side blog for [One Piece](https://hazzilyeverafter-onepiece.tumblr.com/). I'd love if you gave me a little visit <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!! It's me.
> 
> So sorry this chapter has been such a long time coming, I know how disappointing it is to wait an age for updates. I'm just trying to focus more on school at the moment, but I'll try and fit in more writing time for all you lovely readers.
> 
> Thank you so much to the people who have been leaving comments, reading them has been such a joy! Since so many of you seem to enjoy this story, I've linked my Tumblr to the end notes so you guys can talk to me on a more convenient platform.
> 
> Have a nice weekend and of course as always, enjoy the chapter!

Now, the Straw Hats have a pretty intimidating reputation in the New World – Zoro knows.

He also knows that the name Roronoa Zoro has terrifying connotations – that it isn’t a name to be uttered freely or taken lightly, that the man behind it should never be underestimated, that the words following his name generally include ‘aggressive’, ‘ruthless’, ‘feared’, ‘killer’, ‘demon’ and sometimes even ‘devilishly handsome’, if he’s lucky.

…Okay, so he made one of those up.

But still, his point still stands.

To the wider public, he’s fierce, an unstoppable force with a mind of steel and a heart that’s missing. He’s unbreakable, an anchor for the rest of the crew, a rock to lean on in a sea that rages on, and on, and on.

And for the most part, they’re not wrong. He _is_ strong. He _is_ merciless. He _is_ somebody who should never be taken lightly.

He _is_ devilishly handsome. (He’s read it in the papers. All the girls say so. Too bad he’s not into girls, and instead has a strange fascination for complexity in life and giving himself thought-migraines and non-symmetrical eyebrows and men who fancy padded suits. He might be broken.)

So, they’re not wrong at all. But he also has a ridiculously soft side that only those on board the Sunny ever have the privilege of seeing and interacting with; a side of lounging on deck snoring loudly enough to be heard from the crow’s nest, of walking in circles for a good twenty minutes around a ship he should be long familiarised with but somehow isn’t, of petting reindeer and catching fish and wearing Hawaiian shirts on warm, sunny days. Of giving his captain piggy back rides when he wants them and striking ‘team attack poses’ with Franky not dissimilar to his ‘Pirate Docking’ stunt and getting harassed and punched repeatedly by a woman he could easily beat to a pulp if he wanted to.

Of spending valuable time in the galley watching Sanji cook, after sneakily peeking his head around the corner of the doorframe to find he has already been forgiven by the lack of a slammed door and a broken nose.

So yeah, he has a softer, more human side – but only when he’s surrounded by the people he knows he can trust with his life, who he knows he can let his guard down around and who really, when everything trivial is stripped away, are not so different from him.

Not so different at all.

And so, he’s sitting at the island separating the kitchen from the galley, thinking it all through – when this all happened and how strange it is that he hadn’t really noticed before now, hadn’t noticed himself slipping into this more peaceful and content persona, but he finds he doesn’t really care.

If he lets himself be honest, it’s actually quite nice.

“Hey, mossy.”

“Hmm?” He lifts his head out of his arms, and rubs his cheek that’s no doubt red and full of fold-lines from being pressed to his sleeve for so long.

When his eyes finally focus on the man leaning on the counter in front of him, he finds that Sanji’s wearing a gentle, amused smile that lifts the corners of his lips just enough to be noticeable, and his eyes are exuding an exasperated yet endeared expression that Zoro finds he can’t look at for too long. It blinds him, a little.

He averts his gaze, and sees that Sanji’s wearing his signature ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron, spotted with a few dots of water from the sink, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and top two buttons of his dress shirt undone.

Dressed in his usual attire, he looks magical.

“How do you feel about helping me out for once, instead of just sitting here snoozing and drooling all over my counter?”

Zoro snaps his gaze away from the collarbones he can see peeking out from under Sanji’s shirt, indignant and slightly offended because he doesn’t drool, thank-you-very-much, he’s a perfectly dignified sleeper with perfectly dignified habits.

He opens his mouth to tell Sanji exactly this, but Sanji interrupts him with an eyeroll before he can get a word in sideways. “Yeah, yeah, you don’t drool. Keep telling yourself that, and who knows, maybe one day it’ll come true.”

Zoro pretends to be offended, _very much a lot, thanks, because how rude of him to say such a thing_ , but secretly he’s quite pleased that their relationship has developed to the point where they can practically read each other’s minds.

He parrots back at Sanji, “yeah yeah, keep rolling your eyes, curly-brow, maybe you’ll find a brain back there!”

He’s not sure if Sanji recognises where Zoro copied that comeback from, but the outraged squawk Sanji lets out and the shove that sends Zoro falling off his chair is a satisfying reaction all the same.

He lets out a startled laugh when his butt comes into contact with the floor, before quickly picking himself up and sending an exaggeratedly betrayed expression in Sanji’s direction, who’s pointing at him in delight as he cackles rather madly. “God, your _face_ -“

Zoro huffs, tries to push his lips down where they’re rebelliously tilting up at the corners, and turns his back on the cook in what he refuses to admit is a flounce, making to exit the galley with his dignity still very-much-intact, because he’s being the bigger man here, dammit, when Sanji reaches over the island and bunches the back of his shirt firmly in his grasp.

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that,” he placates innocently, mirth still evident in his voice, “you started it.”

 _Actually_ , Zoro wants to point out, _I didn’t start it, I haven’t touched a hair on your silky blonde head –  it’s not my fault that you have violent tendencies, geez_ , but he doesn’t because Sanji’s still grinning at him with eyes that twinkle like stars, and Zoro wants to stay.

So he does, settling into the seat again with a small shake of his head, and thinks that the pleased grin Sanji sends him is enough to convince him to stay for a long time coming; for as long as Sanji wants.

“Now, about that help,” Sanji starts, and suddenly his voice carries an edge of mania; Zoro thinks not for the first time that Nami is not a good influence. “How do you feel about peeling potatoes?”

Zoro doesn’t really understand why that would be even remotely horrible, so he shrugs and follows Sanji to the storage room. It’s not until Sanji starts hauling a bag of potatoes the size of a small mountain back to the kitchen that Zoro realises, with no small amount of horror, that he may have made a grave mistake.

(Sometimes he momentarily forgets that their crew of nine can consume the food of a rather large army in a third of the time, but alas, he does not have the luxury of forgetting for long.)

Sanji, noticing Zoro’s reluctance, raises an eyebrow. “Still coming?”

Zoro grunts, and sees the challenge for what it is. He grins exaggeratedly wide, and wonders if some of the mania is in his eyes, too. He thinks his molars are showing. “Of course, shit-cook. Nothing pleases me more than peeling potatoes.”

He then proceeds to shoulder past Sanji and into the kitchen, and if he stumbles over Sanji’s conveniently placed foot on the way, well. He probably deserves it.

 

xxx

 

“How’re you going with the potatoes, mosshead?”

“Fine,” Zoro grits out, adding another peeled potato to the ever-growing pile.

Sanji laughs breezily from where he’s standing over the pots and pans on the stove. It’s a laugh that positively radiated I’m-calling-bullshit, but Zoro refuses to be cowered by some spuds. That would certainly be a new low.

“Still enjoying yourself?”

He slams the next potato down with a little more force than perhaps necessary, and plasters the most genuine grin on his face that he can manage. He’s not sure it turns out all that well. “Of course.”

If Sanji’s unsettled by his expression, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he just smirks and moves closer with even more unpeeled potatoes. “Good,” he says, dumping them all at Zoro’s feet. “I’m doing you a favour, then.”

He has the audacity to wink as he turns away, and Zoro seriously considers lobbing the next potato at the back of his stupid attractive head.

He doesn’t, though. He tries to tamper down the heat rising to his cheeks and the smile rising to his lips, instead.

 

xxx

 

Lunch is full of potato-centred dishes that Zoro suspects Sanji only makes to explain why he put Zoro through all of his earlier suffering, despite Sanji’s adamant denial when Zoro probes. Lies. Zoro knows that when Sanji flutters his eyelashes and softens his voice to say _of course all 100 potatoes were necessary, mossball, don’t be silly and eat your food like a good boy, hm?_ he’s being patronised, but Zoro finds it hard to remain angry when Sanji immediately follows his words up by running his fingers gently through Zoro’s hair as he walks away, long fingers catching softly in slight tangles, dropping his hand to squeeze his shoulder lightly before he moves into the kitchen to bring out the rest of the food.

Zoro ignores the curious glances the rest of the crew send him, and thankfully, they don’t ask. He focusses his attention on the food, and finds that as usual, it’s delicious.

He appreciates it on a whole new level now, after his own fiasco in the kitchen. He knew cooking was a talent beforehand, obviously, but he never truly understood the difficulty of it until he tried it himself.

Being a chef is _hard_. And being a successful one is definitely something to be proud of.

“Sanji, these curly fries are _so good_!” comes Chopper’s squeal of delight as Sanji finally sets down the last few plates on the table.

“Hmmm,” Zoro mumbles in agreement, throwing a few more into his mouth while there’s still some left, “they remind me of your eyebrows.”

The feeling of his foot being crushed into the ground under the table is worth it for the groan that tears its way almost painfully from Sanji’s throat. “God, I hate you.”

Zoro grins, and kicks Sanji lightly under the table with his other foot. “No, you don’t.”

Sanji looks up at him, and shakes his head slowly. Smiles, eyes soft.

“No, I don’t.”

 

xxx

 

After lunch, Chopper pleads with them all to play something with him. It’s Luffy that suggests Limbo, probably because he makes the miscalculation that being made of rubber is enough for him to win.

Zoro thinks Luffy may have forgotten that they have a reindeer literally a foot tall and a cook who can bend in half on the crew.

He snorts, but helps tie the rope from the mast to the railing anyway, and settles against the mast ready to watch some live entertainment.

“What, Zoro, you’re not playing??” Chopper pouts, and Zoro shakes his head.

He’s not going to win, he may as well admit it, so what’s the point of making himself look stupid?

He lets out a surprised _oof_ when he feels something soft and furry collide with his chest, and looks down to see Chopper clinging to him with huge moist eyes. “Pleaseee?”

Zoro, as usual, relents.

He needs to learn how to say no to cute things.

Sighing, he gets up, and begins to untie his three katana from his waist.

Chopper cheers, before running back over to stand with Luffy and Usopp, who are contorting into strange and rather alarming shapes with serious expressions on their faces.

Franky and Brook are no better, standing a little further away and stretching rather obscenely if Zoro does say so himself, and he can hear the occasional “Yohohoho!” and “Yeow! SUPER!” drifting over from whatever disturbing conversation they’re probably having.

He doesn’t notice Sanji sidling up to him until he’s nudged by a bony elbow. He turns to face him, and notices Sanji’s taken off his suit jacket and rolled his sleeves back up again. “Can’t believe you agreed to play, marimo,” he teases. “Chopper really is your soft spot, huh?”

Zoro wonders whether it would be appropriate to mention that Chopper’s not as much Zoro’s soft spot as Sanji is. Probably not. He keeps his mouth shut, and chooses to hum non-committedly instead.

“Is there a prize, or am I playing for nothing?” Robin inquires calmly from his other side. Zoro shrugs.

Surprisingly, it’s Nami who answers her question.

“Since I’m feeling especially generous today,” she smirks, teeth turning pointy, “the winner will receive 10,000 Beri from me.”

Zoro grunts. How pointless. He’s never going to win, so the prize money will never be his. Not that he could have kept it anyway – he’s still got that ridiculous debt he owes her, that he swears she increases the amount of every time he asks.

Still. The deal is too good to be true – Nami never gives away money, so he wonders what the catch is.

“ _But_ ,” she continues, and ah, there it is, “the one who comes last has to _double_ the debt they owe me!” Her eyes turn to Beri signs, and drool starts to pool in her open mouth. Zoro would mention the irony of the drool to Sanji, but the feeling of betrayal reaches him first.

Why, that _witch_! She _knows_ he’s horribly inflexible and probably going to lose, and he also owes the second largest debt to her after Luffy, so she no doubt set the rules just to spite him!

He’s just about to march over there and tell her to _take it back, dammit, and stop being so cruel_ when a steady hand circles around his upper arm and prevents him from moving.

“You are going to stay here and agree with Nami-san, mosshead,” Sanji breathes calmly into his ear, “or I swear I will kick your sorry ass all the way back to Skypeia.”

Sanji sounds serious, and this more than anything is what sets Zoro off. He swallows back the bitter hurt that surfaces, because what exactly is surprising? He’s always known that Sanji adores Nami – that’s just common knowledge, long accepted as truth, and he shouldn’t challenge it. But he wants to, wants to scream in Sanji’s face _it’s me or her, it’s not fair that you get both_ , but what’s the point? He knows who Sanji would choose already. So he clings to the anger, instead.

“Oh, fuck off,” he snaps back, and wrenches his arm out of Sanji’s grip. “You _know_ her second rule is targeted at me, you just don’t give a shit because she’s _always_ been your favourite!”

Then he’s storming towards her, angry beyond words not just because of her proposal but also because he hates that she doesn’t appreciate Sanji anywhere near enough, but is also still everything Sanji wants. _He hates it_ , and he wishes that it didn’t hurt as much as it does knowing Sanji will always take her side, will always like her more, will always choose her over Zoro.

It’s bullshit, and Zoro knows it’s not her fault, not really, but he doesn’t really care either because right now he just needs to yell at somebody. He wants somebody to blame, because if he doesn’t blame somebody then he’ll be forced to admit that nobody’s to blame, that it’s just life, that it’s just the hand of cards he was dealt and he’ll have to deal with it, no matter how shit the cards are.

Because they’re pretty shit, aren’t they?

He’s almost reached her, hands clenched into fists and breathing too fast, when he feels a dress shoe connect heavily with his back. He’s sent sprawling across deck, and it’s not really a super hard kick, exactly, nowhere near hard enough to send him back to Skypeia, but it makes him so bitter and shaken and _furious_ that in a split second he’s jumped back up and is charging at Sanji.

It’s probably the fact that he doesn’t have his swords that throws Sanji off, because he doesn’t move out of the way quick enough before Zoro’s shoulder comes into contact with his chest and they’re both sent tackling to the floor.

Zoro lands more or less on top of him, and he doesn’t waste time before grabbing Sanji by the collar and shaking him, shaking and shaking and shaking so that Sanji’s head is lolling about, but then Sanji’s rolling them around so that he’s the one on top and when did Zoro become the one who was shaking?

“What is _wrong_ with you?” Sanji hisses, but he sounds rather concerned. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you today, but you’re acting strange.” He grips Zoro’s shoulders, frowning when he notices the trembling. “Why are you shaking? Are you sick? Maybe you should lie down for a bit-“

“No,” Zoro swallows around the growing lump in his throat, and tries to calm his breathing. “I’m fine.”

He clears his throat, letting go of Sanji’s shirt and ignoring the fact he’s wrinkled it rather badly before shoving Sanji off. Confused, Sanji lets him, and Zoro stands and moves away quickly before Sanji can catalogue too much of his expression. He’s confident that he’s showing too much on his face, and he’s so scared, terrified beyond belief, that Sanji will get one good long look at his face and _know_.

And Zoro can’t afford that, so he walks back to the rest of the group who are standing stock still as they gape at him. It’s a small mercy that they weren’t close enough to hear his conversation with Sanji.

He shrugs, as nonchalantly as possible, raising what he hopes is a carefree eyebrow. “Limbo?”

“Um,” Nami hesitates, glancing at him with a slightly guilty expression, “sure. And because I’m feeling very incredibly generous today,” smiles, and Zoro notes the lack of Beri signs in her eyes, “I’ve decided whoever loses only has to increase their debt to me by 50%!”

Zoro sends a ghost of a smile back, appreciating her effort, and feels a little bad that he made her feel responsible for his outburst. If only it were as simple as a debt, though. If only.

He feels Sanji saunter up to his side again, but neither of them say a word.

Robin watches them with a calculating gaze, and it makes Zoro feel slightly nauseous because _what if she knows?_

“Would you still like to play, swordsman-san?”

He shrugs, and tries to act natural. “Sure, why not?”

Robin tilts her head slightly but drops it, and so it’s in this tense sort of limbo ( _hah_ ) that the game begins. They line up, Luffy and Chopper at the front, and one by one they make their way under the rope. It’s not difficult at all yet – the rope is set at around Zoro’s shoulder height, and he finds the first few rounds a relative breeze. As the rope is moved lower and lower, the tension that’s suffocating them like a smothering fog starts to dissipate – because despite Zoro’s mood being slightly off, the occurrence of Zoro losing his temper and getting into a scuffle with Sanji isn’t news.

Soon enough the stoic atmosphere is replaced by Chopper’s giggles at being able to just _walk under the rope every time, bastards, and it doesn’t make him happy at all_ , and Brook’s cries of “yohohoho, how this is putting a strain on my muscles – except I don’t have any! Skull joke! Yohohoho!” and just like that, the crew is once more at ease.

Zoro finds himself smiling faintly at each of their antics, but his heart still isn’t really in it and he can feel Sanji’s eyes on him, gaze prickling the back of his neck. He doesn’t turn to meet his gaze, but every time it’s Sanji’s turn to make it past the rope he finds himself staring at the elegant bend of his back, how he makes it look so graceful and easy and how it accentuates the length of his legs. How his hair flops downwards and exposes parts of his face that are usually obscured by blonde bangs, how his lips curl around his cigarette, how he smiles with his teeth showing, and Zoro’s seen enough.

It makes him feel queasy, knowing how gone he is for somebody who’s so clearly off limits, out of reach, untouchable. It makes him feel sick, because hadn’t he promised himself he wouldn’t let it come to this? Hadn’t he sworn that he’d keep himself under control, to keep his distance, to first and foremost make Sanji happy? To put Sanji first?

He has nobody to blame but himself, really. He’d known not to get carried away; known that he shouldn’t keep giving out pieces of himself to a person who clearly doesn’t want them.

“Hey, you sure you’re alright?”

Zoro blinks, and when he zones back in it’s to see Sanji gazing at him in concern, blue eyes swimming with warmth that Zoro suddenly doesn’t want directed at him. It gives him hope that Sanji cares about him, but what good is that hope when he knows he’ll never care enough, never care in the way Zoro wants him to?

Sometimes, Zoro thinks it’d almost be better if he didn’t care at all. It’d be easier to keep away, then.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” He shrugs off the careful hand on his arm, and makes his way under the rope. It’s getting quite low, and Zoro knows he won’t make it past more than another few rounds. He doesn’t really care, anymore – let Nami increase his debt, he just wants to be left alone.

A few minutes later, Franky falls backwards as he’s going under the rope, and he blames it on the fact that his arms are too heavy and they’re upsetting his centre of gravity. Zoro has a sneaking suspicion Franky could have made a few more rounds if he’d put in a tad more effort, but he decides not to look a gift horse in the mouth and doesn’t say anything when Nami adds 50% onto Franky’s rather small – compared to Zoro’s at least – debt, failing the next round himself and gratefully sitting off to the side to watch the rest of them.

He watches Luffy’s ridiculous backbends as he passes under the rope, Nami and Robin’s smooth glide, Brook’s flexible arch, Chopper’s delighted walk, and Usopp’s flailing limbs, but time and time again he finds his attention drawn to Sanji. He’s confident as he passes under the rope, knows he’ll make it, and there’s no tremble or teeter as he bends backwards as easily as if it were forwards instead.

It’s fascinating, and Zoro can’t stop staring. But it’s not good for him, he knows that – knows he needs to stop and get a grip on himself, needs to move on, so he heaves himself up off of the floor with a groan.

“I think I might go and take a nap,” he tells Franky, and pretends he can’t feel Sanji’s gaze following him as he makes his way to the men’s quarters.

He doesn’t do much napping. Instead, he lies on his bed, hands behind his head as he wonders about the correlation between golden boys and the stars, both so beautiful and so unbearably out of reach.

 

xxx

 

Zoro stays like that until he hears the distinct sound of dress shoes on floorboards, and then stays like that some more.

Sanji pushes open the door with an armful of bandages, and doesn’t look too surprised at Zoro being there.

Franky probably told him.

Or perhaps he’d asked.

(But why would that matter? It doesn’t. Zoro needs to stop fooling himself.)

Sanji dumps the bandages on his bed, and isn’t that lovely, doesn’t this scene just give him a wonderful sense of déjà vu?

“Limbo over, then?” he asks, more to break the silence than anything.

Sanji looks over. “Yeah.” He doesn’t look away again, just gazes steadily at Zoro as if he’s an enigma and Sanji wants to solve him. Zoro clenches his jaw, torn between offering to help reapply the bandages, and saving himself while he still has enough pieces left.

He’s always been a little bit reckless though, hasn’t he? Sacrificial. That’s part of who he is, deeply engraved in his bones, to put his favourite people before himself. It’s etched in the scars at his ankles, permanent. He can’t really see himself changing, doesn’t even truly know how, because if he’s not the Roronoa Zoro everyone knows then who even is he?

He meets Sanji’s eyes, and holds them with his golden ones. Sits up, leans his elbows on his knees. Hesitates, and then thinks _to hell with it_ , pushes himself up off the bed, picking up a roll of gauze. Tugs on Sanji’s shirt. Drops his gaze.

“Take this off.”

Sanji obeys silently, and the similarity between this day and that one so many weeks ago now has Zoro’s fingers trembling slightly.

The same people, the same event, but a different time.

As Zoro wraps the bandages around Sanji’s shoulder, well on its way to healing now, he finds his mind drifting to whether things would have turned out differently if he had met Sanji at a different time. Perhaps they’d be different people, perhaps they’d be together.

Perhaps, they’d both be golden.

 

xxx

 

Zoro finds out at dinner that Sanji won Limbo.

It’s Usopp who tells him later that Sanji gave the money he won back to Nami, and told her to deduct it from Zoro’s debt. _He didn’t need it, he’d said. Such a kind man, learnt it all from Captain Usopp…_

Zoro walks out then, and makes his way up to the crow’s nest where he tells Brook to get some sleep, relieving him of watch duty. Zoro may as well do it, if he’s going to be up all night.

 

xxx

 

It’s around midnight when Sanji joins him in the crow’s nest, climbing in silently with two mugs of steaming coffee and a tired smile on his face. He hands one of the mugs to Zoro, before sitting down so close that the two of them are touching from shoulder to knee.

Zoro thinks about moving away, but it’s late enough for honesty and Zoro doesn’t want to, so he doesn’t.

They don’t say anything, for a while. Zoro gets lost in the feeling of Sanji so close, and wonders why he has to make this so hard for Zoro, why he has to ruin him.

It’s not until their coffees are just dregs in their mugs and their mugs have long gone cold that Sanji breaks the silence.

“Do you ever feel like,” he whispers into the darkness, words weaving into the breeze, “your world has tilted on its axis and spun out of control?”

Zoro runs a hand over his face. “Yeah,” he sighs back. “Yeah.”

Sanji nods to himself. “Without your permission, without you even realising, until it’s too late.” He huffs out a breath, melancholy. Almost bittersweet. “It’s so strange.”

“It’s so shit, more like.”

Sanji’s lips twist into a wry grin. “Yeah, I suppose it is.”

Zoro wonders why they’re whispering like a breath too hard will break them, like everything they say is a secret, but maybe it will, and maybe it is.

“You know, I’ve always wondered why I’m never good enough for people to consider a serious relationship with.” Sanji shifts, taps his fingers against his knee. “Why am I not good enough?”

Zoro wants to tell him that he is good enough, he is he is he is, he’s good enough for _Zoro_ , but he doesn’t because that’s not what Sanji wants to hear. He ducks his head instead, chewing on the inside of his cheek until he’s sure it bleeds.

“Nami said we’re arriving at an island tomorrow. You can go on your nice date with a nice girl, then,” Zoro promises, “and I’m sure there’ll be plenty of willing women to choose from.”

Before he’s even finished speaking, Sanji’s shaking his head. Laughs quietly, a melody broken but no less beautiful, and then a little louder. He’s still shaking his head, and there’s a touch of despair to his voice when he next speaks.

“Goodnight, Zoro.”

And then he’s tilting his head back to get one last look at the sky splattered with stars, before standing up, backlit by the moon and shoulders slumped, defeated.

The next second he’s gone, silent as he came, and alone and confused Zoro wonders whether he and Sanji are on the same page; whether they’re even reading the same goddamn book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My main Tumblr is [here](https://hazzilyeverafter.tumblr.com/), but perhaps my One Piece side-blog would make more sense in this scenario, so I've linked that [here](https://hazzilyeverafter-onepiece.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Please feel free to send me a message, whether that's a question on any of my fanfiction, or even just to talk! I promise I don't bite.
> 
> Also, I TAKE PROMPTS! So if you have any ideas for stories you'd like me to write, send me an ask on Tumblr and I'll see to it :) I'd prefer prompts for one-shots rather than chaptered fics because shorter stories mean I can get then completed quicker and you can all read them sooner, but I'll always consider longer requests too.
> 
> Fandoms I'm willing to write in include One Piece (ZoSan, KidLaw), One Direction (Larry), the Phandom, and recently BTS. I do dabble in other fandoms though, so if you have other pairings let me know and I'll see what I can do.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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